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AT THE BACK OF THE 
NORTH WIND 


SIXTH EDITION 


HOLIDAY EDITIONS 

JUVENILE CLASSICS 

THE PRINCESS AND THE 
GOBLIN 

By George Macdonald 

Twelve full-page Illustrations in color , and the original 
wood engravings. Decorated chapter-headings and 
lining-papers. Ornamental cloth, $i.fO. 


THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE 

By George Macdonald 

Twelve full-page illustrations in color , and decorated 
chapter-headings and lining-papers. 
Ornamental cloth , $r.^O. 


AT THE BACK OF THE 
NORTH WIND 

By George Macdonald 

Twelve full-page illustrations in color. Decorated 
chapter-headings and lining-papers. 

Cloth , ornamental , $i.fo. 


A DOG OF FLANDERS 

By “Ouida” 

Illustrated with full-page color plates , and decorated 
chapter-headings and lining-papers. 

Cloth , ornamental , $r.jo. 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
Publishers Philadelphia 










Page 33/, 





NORTH WIND. WHO WAS DANCING WITH HIM, ROUND AND ROUND THE LONG BARE ROOM 






AT THE BACK OF 
THE NORTH WIND 

BY 

GEORGE MACDONALD 

Author of “ The Princess and the Goblin ” “ The Princess and Curdie ” btc. 


WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR 

BY MARIA L. KIRK 



PHILADELPHIA & LONDON 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 


Copyright, 1909 • 

By J. B. Lippincott Company 










Printed, by J. B. Lippincott Company 
The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Hay-loft. 1 

II. The Lawn. 14 

III. Old Diamond. 22 

IV. North Wind. 34 

V. The Summer-house. 46 

VI. Out in the Storm. 58 

VII. The Cathedral. 66 

VIII. The East Window. 76 

IX. How Diamond got to the Back of the North Wind 81 

X. At the Back of the North Wind. 100 

XI. How Diamond got Home Again. 106 

XII. Who Met Diamond at Sandwich. 113 

XIII. The Seaside. 118 

XIV. Old Diamond. 130 

XV. The Mews. 134 

XVI. Diamond Makes a Beginning_-. 138 

XVII. Diamond goes on. 150 

XVIII. The Drunken Cabman. 159 

XIX. Diamond’s Friends. 166 

XX. Diamond Learns to Read. 174 

XXI. Sal’s Nanny. 181 

XXII. Mr. Raymond’s Riddle. 190 

XXIII. The Early Bird. 194 


v 
























CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV. Another Early Bird. 198 

XXV. Diamond’s Dream. 209 

XXVI. Diamond Takes a Fare the Wrong Way Right. 221 

XXVII. The Children’s Hospital. 230 

XXVIII. Little Daylight. 236 

XXIX. Ruby. 260 

XXX. Nanny’s Dream. 268 

XXXI. The North Wind doth Blow. 287 

XXXII. Diamond and Ruby. 291 

XXXIII. The Prospect Brightens. 299 

XXXIV. In the Country. 310 

XXXV. I Make Diamond’s Acquaintance. 316 

XXXVI. Diamond Questions North Wind. 329 

XXXVII. Once More. 342 

XXXVIII. At the Back of the North Wind. 350 
















ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

NORTH WIND, WHO WAS DANCING WITH HIM, ROUND AND ROUND 

the long bare room. Frontispiece 

AGAINST THIS HE LAID HIS EAR, AND THEN HE HEARD THE VOICE 

QUITE DISTINCTLY. 5 

DIAMOND KEPT UP WITH HER AS WELL AS HE COULD .... 30 

IT WAS THE BACK DOOR OF A GARDEN. 44 

AND LO! WITH THE MOON, ST. JOHN AND ST. PAUL, AND THE REST 
OF THEM, BEGAN TO DAWN IN THE WINDOW IN THEIR 
LOVELY GARMENTS. 74 

HE WAS SURE IT WAS NORTH WIND, BUT HE THOUGHT SHE MUST 

BE DEAD AT LAST. 97 

SO DIAMOND SAT DOWN AGAIN, TOOK THE BABY IN HIS LAP . . 141 

WITHIN A MONTH HE WAS ABLE TO SPELL OUT MOST OF THE 

VERSES FOR HIMSELF. 174 

HE FASTENED THE CHEEK-STRAP VERY CAREFULLY. 198 

FOR A FORTNIGHT DIAMOND WENT ON DRIVING HIS CAB . . . 228 

“ COME ALONG, NANNY; MY LADY WANTS YOU •. 276 

diamond’s nest .322 











THE HAY-LOFT 



M 


HAVE been asked to tell you 
about the back of the North. 
Wind. An old Greek writer 
mentions a people who lived 
there, and were so comfortable 
that they could not bear it any longer, and drowned 
themselves. My story is not the same as his. I do 
not think Herodotus had got the right account of the 
place. I am going to tell you how it fared with a boy 
who went there. 

He lived in a low room over a coach-house; and 
that was not by any means at the back of the North 
Wind, as his mother very well knew. For one side 
of the room was built only of boards, and the boards 
were so old that you might run a penknife through 
into the north wind. And then let them settle be¬ 
tween them vHiich was the sharper! I know that 
when you pulled it out again the wind would be after 
it like a cat after a mouse, and you would know soon 
enough you were not at the back of the North Wind. 

1 










AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Still, this room was not very cold, except when the 
north wind blew stronger than usual: the room I 
have to do with now was always cold, except in sum¬ 
mer, when the sun took the matter into his own 
hands. Indeed, I am not sure whether I ought to 
call it a room at all; for it was just a loft where they 
kept hay and straw and oats for the horses. And 

when little Diamond-but stop: I must tell you 

that his father, who was a coachman, had named him 
after a favourite horse, and his mother had had no 
objection:—when little Diamond then lay there in 
bed, he could hear the horses under him munching 
away in the dark, or moving sleepily in their 
dreams. For Diamond’s father had built him a bed 
in the loft with boards all round it, because they 
had so little room in their own end over the coach¬ 
house; and Diamond’s father put old Diamond in 
the stall under the bed, because he was a quiet horse, 
and did not go to sleep standing, but lay down like 
a reasonable creature. But, although he was a sur¬ 
prisingly reasonable creature, yet, when young 
Diamond woke in the middle of the night, and felt 
the bed shaking in the blasts of the north wind, he 
could not help wondering whether, if the wind 
should blow the house down, and he were to fall 
through into the manger, old Diamond mightn’t 
eat him up before he knew him in his night-gown. 
And although old Diamond was very quiet all night 
long, yet when he woke he got up like an earth¬ 
quake, and then young Diamond knew what o’clock 
it was, or at least what was to be done next, which 
was—to go to sleep again as fast as he could. 


2 


THE HAY-LOFT 


There was hay at his feet and hay at his head, 
piled up in great trusses to the very roof. Indeed 
it was sometimes only through a little lane with 
several turnings, which looked as if it had been sawn 
out for him, that he could reach his bed at all. For 
the stock of hay was, of course, always in a state 
either of slow ebb or of sudden flow. Sometimes the 
whole space of the loft, with the little panes in the 
roof for the stars to look in, would lie open before his 
open eyes as he lay in bed; sometimes a yellow wall 
of sweet-smelling fibres closed up his view at the dis¬ 
tance of half a yard. Sometimes, when his mother 
had undressed him in her room, and told him to trot 
away to bed by himself, he would creep into the heart 
of the hay, and lie there thinking how cold it was 
outside in the wind, and how warm it was inside 
there in his bed, and how he could go to it when he 
pleased, only he wouldn’t just yet; he would get a 
little colder first. And ever as he grew colder, his 
bed would grow warmer, till at last he would 
scramble out of the hay, shoot like an arrow into 
his bed, cover himself up, and snuggle down, think¬ 
ing what a happy boy he was. He had not the least 
idea that the wind got in at a chink in the wall, 
and blew about him all night. For the back of his 
bed was only of boards an inch thick, and on the 
other side of them was the north wind. 

Now, as I have already said, these boards were 
soft and crumbly. To be sure, they were tarred 
on the outside, yet in many places they were more 
like tinder than timber. Hence it happened that 
the soft part having worn away from about it, little 
3 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Diamond found one night, after he lay down, that a 
knot had come out of one of them, and that the wind 
was blowing in upon him in a cold and rather im¬ 
perious fashion. Now he had no fancy for leaving 
things wrong that might be set right; so he jumped 
out of bed again, got a little strike of hay, twisted 
it up, folded it in the' middle, and, having thus made 
it into a cork, stuck it into the hole in the wall. 
But the wind began to blow loud and angrily, and, 
as Diamond was falling asleep, out blew his cork 
and hit him on the nose, just hard enough to wake 
him up quite, and let him hear the wind whistling 
shrill in the hole. He searched for his hay-cork, 
found it, stuck it in harder, and was just dropping 
off once more, when, pop! with an angry whistle 
behind it, the cork struck him again, this time on 
the cheek. Up he rose once more, made a fresh 
stopple of hay, and corked the hole severely. But 
he was hardly down again before—pop! it came on 
his forehead. He gave it up, drew the clothes above 
his head, and was soon fast asleep. 

Although the next day was very stormy, Diamond 
forgot all about the hole, for he was busy making a 
cave by the side of his mother’s fire with a broken 
chair, a three-legged stool, and a blanket, and then 
sitting in it. His mother, however, discovered it, 
and pasted a bit of brown paper over it, so that, 
when Diamond had snuggled down the next night, 
he had no occasion to think of it. 

Presently, however, he lifted his head and listened. 
Who could that he talking to him! The wind was 
rising again, and getting very loud, and full of 
rushes and whistles. He was sure some one was 


4 



AGAINST THIS HE LAID HIS EAR, AND THEN HE HEARD THE VOICE QUITE DISTINCTLY 





THE HAY-LOFT 


talking—and very near him too it was. But he was 
not frightened, for he had not yet learned how to 
be; so he sat np and hearkened. At last the voice, 
which, though quite gentle, sounded a little angry, 
appeared to come from the back of the bed. He 
crept nearer to it, and laid his ear against the wall. 
Then he heard nothing but the wind, which sounded 
very loud indeed. The moment, however, that he 
moved his head from the wall, he heard the voice 
again, close to his ear. He felt about with his hand, 
and came upon the piece of paper his mother had 
pasted over the hole. Against this he laid his ear, 
and then he heard the voice quite distinctly. There 
was, in fact, a little corner of the paper loose, and 
through that, as from a mouth in the wall, the voice 
came. 

“What do you mean, little boy—closing up my 
window ?’ 9 

“What window V 9 asked Diamond. 

“You stuffed hay into it three times last night. 
I had to blow it out again three times / 9 

“You can’t mean this little hole! It isn’t a win¬ 
dow; it’s a hole in my bed.” 

‘ 4 1 did not say it was a window: I said it was my 
window . 9 9 

“But it can’t be a window, because windows are 
holes to see out of.” 

“Well, that’s just what I made this window for.” 

“But you are outside: you can’t want a window.” 

“You are quite mistaken. Windows are to see 
out of, you say. Well, I’m in my house, and I want 
windows to see out of it.” 

‘ ‘ But you’ve made a window into my bed. ’ ’ 

5 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“Well, your mother has got three windows into 
my dancing room, and you have three into my 
garret.’ 9 

“But I heard father say, when my mother wanted 
him to make a window through the wall, that it was 
against the law, for it would look into Mr. Dyves’s 
garden. ’ ’ 

The voice laughed. 

“The law would have some trouble to catch me!” 
it said. 

“But if it’s not right, you know,” said Diamond, 
“that’s no matter. You shouldn’t do it.” 

‘ ‘ I am so tall I am above that law , 9 9 said the voice. 

“You must have a tall house, then,” said Dia¬ 
mond. 

“Yes; a tall house: the clouds are inside it.” 

“Dear me!” said Diamond, and thought a minute. 
“I think, then, you can hardly expect me to keep 
a window in my bed for you. Why don’t you make 
a window into Mr. Dyves’s bed?” 

“Nobody makes a window into an ash-pit,” said 
the voice, rather sadly. “I like to see nice things 
out of my windows.” 

“But he must have a nicer bed than I have, 
though mine is very nice—so nice that I couldn’t 
wish a better.” 

“It’s not the bed I care about: it’s what is in it.— 
But you just open that window.” 

“Well, mother says I shouldn’t be disobliging; 
but it’s rather hard. You see the north wind will 
blow right in my face if I do.” 

“I am the North Wind.” 


6 


THE HAY-LOFT 


“O-o-oh!” said Diamond, thoughtfully. “Then 
will you promise not to blow on my face if I open 
your window ?” 

“I can’t promise that.” 

“But you’ll give me the toothache. Mother’s got 
it already.” 

“But what’s to become of me without a window?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know. All I say is, it will be 
worse for me than for you.” 

“No; it will not. You shall not be the worse 
for it—I promise you that. You will be much the 
better for it. Just you believe what I say, and do 
as I tell you.” 

“Well, I can pull the clothes over my head,” said 
Diamond, and feeling with his little sharp nails, he 
got hold of the open edge of the paper and tore it 
off at once. 

In came a long whistling spear of cold, and struck 
his little naked chest. He scrambled and tumbled 
in under the bedclothes, and covered himself up: 
there was no paper now between him and the voice, 
and he felt a little—not frightened exactly—I told 
you he had not learned that yet—but rather queer; 
for what a strange person this North Wind must 
be that lived in the great house—“called Out-of- 
Doors, I suppose,” thought Diamond—and made 
windows into people’s beds! But the voice began 
again; and he could hear it quite plainly, even with 
his head under the bedclothes. It was still more 
gentle voice now, although six times as large and 
loud as it had been, and he thought it sounded a little 
like his mother’s. 


7 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“What is your name, little boy?” it asked. 

“Diamond,” answered Diamond, under the bed¬ 
clothes. 

“What a funny name!” 

“It’s a very nice name,” returned its owner. 

“I don’t know that,” said the voice. 

“Well, I do,” retorted Diamond, a little rudely. 

“Do you know to whom you are speaking?” 

“No,” said Diamond. 

And indeed he did not. For to know a person’s 
name is not always to know the person’s self. 

“Then I must not be angry with you—You had 
better look and see, though.” 

“Diamond is a very pretty name,” persisted the 
boy, vexed that it should not give satisfaction. 

“Diamond is a useless thing rather,” said the 
voice. 

“That’s not true. Diamond is very nice—as big 
as two—and so quiet all night! And doesn’t he 
make a jolly row in the morning, getting upon his 
four great legs! It’s like thunder.” 

“You don’t seem to know what a diamond is.” 

“Oh, don’t I just! Diamond is a great and good 
horse; and he sleeps right under me. He is Old 
Diamond, and I am Young Diamond; or, if you like 
it better, for you’re very particular, Mr. North 
Wind, he’s Big Diamond, and I’m Little Diamond; 
and I don’t know which of us my father likes best.” 

A beautiful laugh, large but very soft and musical, 
sounded somewhere beside him, but Diamond kept 
his head under the clothes. 

“I’m not Mr. North Wind,” said the voice. 


8 


THE HAY-LOFT 


“You told me that you were the North Wind/’ 
insisted Diamond. 

“I did not say Mister North Wind,” said the 
voice. 

“Well, then, I do; for mother tells me I ought to 
be polite.” 

“Then let me tell you I don’t think it at all polite 
of you to say Mister to me.” 

“Well, I didn’t know better. I’m very sorry.” 

“But you ought to know better.” 

“I don’t know that.” 

“I do. You can’t say it’s polite to lie there talk¬ 
ing—with your head under the bedclothes, and 
never look up to see what kind of person you are 
talking to.—I want you to come out with me.” 

“I want to go to sleep,” said Diamond, very 
nearly crying, for he did not like to be scolded, evem 
when he deserved it. 

“You shall sleep all the better to-morrow night.” 

“Besides,” said Diamond, “you are out in Mr. 
Dyves’s garden, and I can’t get there. I can only 
get into our own yard.” 

“Will you take your head out of the bedclothes!” 
said the voice, just a little angrily. 

“No!” answered Diamond, half peevish, half 
frightened. 

The instant he said the word, a tremendous blast 
of wind crashed in a hoard of the wall, and swept the 
clothes off Diamond. He started up in terror. 
Leaning over him was the large, beautiful, pale face 
of a woman. Her dark eyes looked a little angry, 
for they had just begun to flash; but a quivering in 


9 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


her sweet upper lip made her look as if she were go¬ 
ing to cry. What was the most strange was that away 
from her head streamed out her black hair in every 
direction, so that the darkness in the hayloft looked 
as if it were made of her hair; but as Diamond gazed 
at her in speechless amazement, mingled with confi¬ 
dence—for the boy was entranced with her mighty 
beauty—her hair began to gather itself out of the 
darkness, and fell down all about her again, till her 
face looked out of the midst of it like a moon out 
of a cloud. From her eyes came all the light by 
which Diamond saw her face and her hair; and that 
was all he did see of her yet. The wind was over 
and gone. 

“Will you go with me now, you little Diamond! 
I am sorry I was forced to be so rough with you,” 
said the lady. 

“I will; yes, I will,” answered Diamond, holding 
out both his arms. “But,” he added, dropping 
them, “how shall I get my clothes! They are in 
mother’s room, and the door is locked.” 

“Oh, never mind your clothes. You will not be 
cold. I shall take care of that. Nobody is cold with 
the North Wind.” 

“I thought everybody was,” said Diamond. 

“That is a great mistake. Most people make it, 
however. They are cold because they are not with 
the North Wind, but without it.” 

If Diamond had been a little older, and had sup¬ 
posed himself a good deal wiser, he would have 
thought the lady was joking. But he was not older, 
and did not fancy himself wiser, and therefore un- 
10 


THE HAY-LOFT 


derstood her well enough. Again he stretched out 
his arms. The lady’s face drew back a little. 

“Follow me, Diamond,” she said. 

“Yes,” said Diamond, only a little ruefully. 

“You’re not afraid?” said the North Wind. 

“No, ma’am; but mother never would let me go 
without shoes: she never said anything about 
clothes, so I dare say she wouldn’t mind that.” 

“I know your mother very well,” said the lady. 
“She is a good woman. I have visited her often. 
I was with her when you were horn. I saw her 
laugh and cry both at once. I love your mother, 
Diamond. ’ ’ 

“How was it you did not know my name, then, 
ma’am? Please am I to say ma’am to you, 
ma’am?” 

“One question at a time, dear boy. I knew your 
name quite well, but I wanted to hear what you 
would say for it. Don’t you remember that day 
when the man was finding fault with your name— 
how I blew the window in?” 

“Yes, yes,” answered Diamond, eagerly. “Our 
window opens like a door, right over the coach¬ 
house door. And the wind—you, ma’am—came in, 
and blew the Bible out of the man’s hands, and the 
leaves went all flutter, flutter on the floor, and my 
mother picked it up and gave it hack to him open, 
and there-” 

“Was your name in the Bible,—the sixth stone in 
the high-priest’s breast-plate.” 

“Oh!—a stone, was it?” said Diamond. “I 
thought it had been a horse—I did.” 

n 



AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“ Never mind. A horse is better than a stone 
any day. Well, yon see, I know all about you and 
your mother.” 

“Yes. I will go with you.” 

“Now for the next question: you’re not to call 
me ma’am. You must call me just my own name— 
respectfully, you know—just North Wind.” 

“Well, please, North Wind, you are so beauti¬ 
ful, I am quite ready to go with you. ’ ’ 

“You must not be ready to go with everything 
beautiful all at once, Diamond.” 

“But what’s beautiful can’t be bad. You’re not 
bad, North Wind?” 

“No; I’m not bad. But sometimes beautiful 
things grow bad by doing bad, and it takes some 
time for their badness to spoil their beauty. So 
little boys may be mistaken if they go after things 
because they are beautiful.” 

“Well, I will go with you because you are beauti¬ 
ful and good too.” 

“Ah, but there’s another thing, Diamond:—What 
if I should look ugly without being bad—look ugly 
myself because I am making ugly things beautiful? 
—What then?” 

“I don’t quite understand you, North Wind. You 
tell me what then.” 

“Well, I will tell you. If you see me with my face 
all black, don’t be frightened. If you see me flap¬ 
ping wings like a bat’s, as big as the whole sky, 
don’t be frightened. If you hear me raging ten 
times worse than Mrs. Bill, the blacksmith’s wife— 
even if you see me looking in at people’s windows 
12 


THE HAY-LOFT 


like Mrs. Eve Dropper, the gardener’s wife—you 
must believe that I am doing my work. Nay, Dia¬ 
mond, if I change into a serpent or a tiger, you 
must not let go your hold of me, for my hand will 
never change in yours if you keep a good hold. If 
you keep a hold, you will know who I am all the 
time, even when you look at me and can’t see me 
the least like the North Wind. I may look some¬ 
thing very awful. Do you understand!” 

1 ‘ Quite well, ’ ’ said little Diamond. 

“Come along, then,” said North Wind, and dis¬ 
appeared behind the mountain of hay. 

Diamond crept out of bed and followed her. 




II. 

THE LAWN 



Diamond got round the cor¬ 
ner of the hay, for a moment 
he hesitated. The stair by * 
which he would naturally have 
gone down to the door was at 
the other side of the loft, and looked very black 
indeed; for it was full of North Wind’s hair, as 
she descended before him. And just beside him 
was the ladder going straight down into the stable, 
up which his father always came to fetch the hay 
for Diamond’s dinner. Through the opening in the 
floor the faint gleam of the stable lantern was en¬ 
ticing, and Diamond thought he would run down 
that way. 

The stair went close past the loose-box in which 
Diamond the horse lived. When Diamond the boy 
was half-way down, he remembered that it was of 
no use to go this way, for the stable-door was locked. 
But at the same moment there was horse Diamond’s 
great head poked out of his box on to the ladder, 
14 










THE LAWN 


for he knew boy Diamond although he was in his 
night-gown, and wanted him to pull his ears for 
him. This Diamond did very gently for a minute 
or so, and patted and stroked his neck too, and 
kissed the big horse, and had begun to take the 
bits of straw and hay out of his mane, when all at 
once he recollected that the Lady North Wind was 
waiting for him in the yard. 

“Good night, Diamond,’’ he said, and darted up 
the ladder, across the loft, and down the stair to the 
door. But when he got out into the yard, there 
was no lady. 

Now it is always a dreadful thing to think there is 
somebody and find nobody. Children in particular 
have not made up their minds to it; they generally 
cry at nobody, especially when they wake up at 
night. But it was an especial disappointment to 
Diamond, for his little heart had been beating with 
joy: the face of the North Wind was so grand! 
To have a lady like that for a friend—with such 
long hair, too! Why, it was longer than twenty 
Diamonds’ tails! She was gone. And there he 
stood, with his bare feet on the stones of the paved 
yard. 

It was a clear night overhead, and the stars were 
shining. Orion in particular was making the most 
of his bright belt and golden sword. But the moon 
was only a poor thin crescent. There was just one 
great, jagged, black and gray cloud in the sky, with 
a steep side to it like a precipice; and the moon was 
against this side, and looked as if she had tumbled 
off the top of the cloud-hill, and broken herself in 
15 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


rolling down the precipice. She did not seem com¬ 
fortable, for she was looking down into the deep 
pit waiting for her. At least that was what Dia¬ 
mond thought as he stood for a moment staring 
at her. But he was quite wrong, for the moon was 
not afraid, and there was no pit she was going down 
into, for there were no sides to it, and a pit without 
sides to it is not a pit at all. Diamond, however, 
had not been out so late before in all his life, and 
things looked so strange about him!—just as if he 
had got into Fairyland, of which he knew quite as 
much as anybody; for his mother had no money to 
buy books to set him wrong on the subject. I have 
seen this world—only sometimes, just now and then, 
you know—look as strange as ever I saw Fairyland. 
But I confess that I have not yet seen Fairyland at 
its best. I am always going to see it so some time. 
But if you had been out in the face and not at the 
back of the North Wind, on a cold rather frosty 
night, and in your night-gown, you would have felt 
it all quite as strange as Diamond did. He cried 
a little, just a little, he was so disappointed to lose 
the lady: of course, you, little man, wouldn’t have 
done that! But for my part, I don’t mind people 
crying, so much as I mind what they cry about, and 
how they cry—whether they cry quietly like ladies 
and gentlemen, or go shrieking like vulgar em¬ 
perors, or ill-natured cooks; for all emperors are 
not gentlemen, and all cooks are not ladies—nor 
all queens and princesses for that matter, either. 

But it can’t be denied that a little gentle crying 
does one good. It did Diamond good; for as soon 
as it was over he was a brave boy again. 

16 


THE LAWN 


“She shan’t say it was my fault anyhow!” said 
Diamond. “I daresay she is hiding somewhere to 
see what I will do. I will look for her.” 

So he went round the end of the stable towards 
the kitchen-garden. But the moment he was clear 
of the shelter of the stable, sharp as a knife came 
the wind against his little chest and his bare legs. 
Still he would look in the kitchen-garden, and went 
on. But when he got round the weeping-ash that 
stood in the corner, the wind blew much stronger, 
and it grew stronger and stronger till he could 
hardly fight against it. And it was so cold! All 
the flashy spikes of the stars seemed to have got 
somehow into the wind. Then he thought of what 
the lady had said about people being cold because 
they were not with the North Wind. How it was 
that he should have guessed what she meant at that 
very moment I cannot tell, but I have observed 
that the most wonderful thing in the world is how 
people come to understand anything. He turned 
his back to the wind, and trotted again towards the 
yard; whereupon, strange to say, it blew so much 
more gently against his calves than it had blown 
against his shins, that he began to feel*almost warm 
by contrast. 

You must not think it was cowardly of Diamond 
to turn his back to the wind: he did so only because 
he thought Lady North Wind had said something 
like telling him to do so. If she had said to him that 
he must hold his face to it, Diamond would have held 
his face to it. But the most foolish thing is to fight 
for no good, and to please nobody. 

Well, it was just as if the wind was pushing Dia- 
17 


2 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


mond along. If he turned round, it grew very sharp 
on his legs especially, and so he thought the wind 
might really be Lady North Wind, though he could 
not see her, and he had better let her blow him 
wherever she pleased. So she blew and blew, and 
he went and went, until he found himself standing 
at a door in a wall, which door led from the yard 
into a little belt of shrubbery, flanking Mr. Cole¬ 
man’s house. Mr. Coleman was his father’s mas¬ 
ter, and the owner of Diamond. He opened the 
door, and went through the shrubbery, and out into 
the middle of the lawn, still hoping to find North 
Wind. The soft grass was very pleasant to his 
bare feet, and felt warm after the stones of the 
yard; but the lady was nowhere to be seen. Then 
he began to think that after all he must have done 
wrong, and she was offended with him for not fol¬ 
lowing close after her, but staying to talk to the 
horse, which certainly was neither wise nor polite. 

There he stood in the middle of the lawn, the wind 
blowing his night-gown till it flapped like a loose 
sail. The stars were very shiny over his head; 
but they did not give light enough to show that the 
grass was green; and Diamond stood alone in the 
strange night, which looked half solid all about him. 
He began to wonder whether he was in a dream or 
not. It was important to determine this; “for,” 
thought Diamond, “if I am in a dream, I am safe 
in my bed, and I needn’t cry. But if I’m not in a 
dream, I’m out here, and perhaps I had better cry, 
or, at least, I’m not sure whether I can help it.” 
He came to the conclusion, however, that, whether 


18 


THE LAWN 


he was in a dream or not, there could be no harm 
in not crying for a little while longer: he could begin 
whenever he liked. 

The back of Mr. Coleman’s house was to the lawn, 
and one of the drawing-room windows looked out 
upon it. The ladies had not gone to bed; for the 
light was still shining in that window. But they 
had no idea that a little boy was standing on the 
lawn in his night-gown, or they would have run out 
in a moment. And as long as he saw that light, 
Diamond could not feel quite lonely. He stood star¬ 
ing, not at the great warrior Orion in the sky, nor 
yet at the disconsolate, neglected moon going down 
in the west, but at the drawing-room window with 
the light shining through its green curtains. He 
had been in that room once or twice that he could 
remember at Christmas times; for the Colemans 
were kind people, though they did not care much 
about children. 

All at once the light went nearly out: he could only 
see a glimmer of the shape of the window. Then, 
indeed, he felt that he was left alone. It was so 
dreadful to be out in the night after everybody was 
gone to bed! That was more than he could bear. 
He burst out crying in good earnest, beginning with 
a wail like that of the wind when it is waking up. 

Perhaps you think this was very foolish; for could 
he not go home to his own bed again when he liked! 
Yes; but it looked dreadful to him to creep up that 
stair again and lie down in his bed again, and know 
that North Wind’s window was open beside him, 
and she gone, and he might never see her again. 


19 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


He would be just as lonely there as here. Nay, it 
would be much worse if he had to think that the 
window was nothing but a hole in the wall. 

At the very moment when he burst out crying, the 
old nurse who had grown to be one of the family, 
for she had not gone away when Miss Coleman did 
not want any more nursing, came to the back door, 
which was of glass, to close the shutters. She 
thought she heard a cry, and, peering out with a 
hand on each side of her eyes like Diamond’s blink¬ 
ers, she saw something white on the lawn. Too old 
and too wise to be frightened, she opened the door, 
and went straight towards the white thing to see 
what it was. And when Diamond saw her coming 
he was not frightened either, though Mrs. Crump 
was a little cross sometimes; for there is a good 
kind of crossness that is only disagreeable, and 
there is a bad kind of crossness that is very nasty 
indeed. So she came up with her neck stretched 
out, and her head at the end of it, and her eyes 
foremost of all, like a snail’s, peering into the night 
to see what it could be that went on glimmering 
white before her. When she did see, she made a 
great exclamation, and threw up her hands. Then 
without a word, for she thought Diamond was walk¬ 
ing in his sleep, she caught hold of him, and led him 
towards the house. He made no objection, for he 
was just in the mood to be grateful for notice of 
any sort, and Mrs. Crump led him straight into the 
drawing-room. 

Now, from the neglect of the new housemaid, the 
fire in Miss Coleman’s bed-room had gone out, and 


20 


THE LAWN 


her mother had told her to brush her hair by the 
drawing-room fire—a disorderly proceeding which 
a mother’s wish could justify. The young lady was 
very lovely, though not nearly so beautiful as North 
Wind; and her hair was extremely long, for it came 
down to her knees—though that was nothing at all 
to North Wind’s hair. Yet when she looked round, 
with her hair all about her, as Diamond entered, he 
thought for one moment that it was North Wind, 
and, pulling his hand from Mrs. Crump’s, he 
stretched out his arms and ran towards Miss Cole¬ 
man. She was so pleased that she threw down her 
brush, and almost knelt on the floor to receive him 
in her arms. He saw the next moment that she 
was not Lady North Wind, but she looked so like 
her he could not help running into her arms and 
bursting into tears afresh. Mrs. Crump said the 
poor child had walked out in his sleep, and Diamond 
thought she ought to know, and did not contradict 
her: for anything he knew, it might be so indeed. 
He let them talk on about him, and said nothing; 
and when, after their astonishment was over, and 
Miss Coleman had given him a sponge-cake, it was 
decreed that Mrs. Crump should take him to his 
mother, he was quite satisfied. 

His mother had to get out of bed to open the door 
when Mrs. Crump knocked. She was indeed sur¬ 
prised to see her boy; and having taken him in her 
arms and carried him to his bed, returned and had 
a long confabulation with Mrs. Crump, for they were 
still talking when Diamond fell fast asleep, and 
could hear them no longer. 

21 


III. 

OLD DIAMOND 



not look altogether like a dream, and he began to 
doubt whether he had not really been abroad in the 
wind last night. He came to the conclusion that, if 
he had really been brought home to his mother by 
Mrs. Crump, she would say something to him about 
it, and that would settle the matter. Then he got 
up and dressed himself, but, finding that his father 
and mother were not yet stirring, he went down the 
ladder to the stable. There he found that even old 
Diamond was not awake yet, for he, as well as young 
Diamond, always got up the moment he woke, and 
now he was lying as flat as a horse could lie upon 
his nice trim bed of straw. 

“I’ll give old Diamond a surprise,” thought the 
boy; and creeping up very softly, before the horse 
22 

















OLD DIAMOND 


knew, he was astride of his back. Then it was 
young Diamond’s turn to have more of a surprise 
than he had expected; for as with an earthquake, 
with a rumbling and a rocking hither and thither, 
a sprawling of legs and heaving as of many backs, 
young Diamond found himself hoisted up in the air, 
with both hands twisted in the horse’s mane. The 
next instant old Diamond lashed out with both his 
hind legs, and giving one cry of terror young Dia¬ 
mond found himself lying on his neck, with his arms 
as far round it as they would go. But then the 
horse stood as still as a stone, except that he lifted 
his head gently up, to let the boy slip down to his 
back. For when he heard young Diamond’s cry he 
knew that there was nothing to kick about; for 
young Diamond was a good boy, and old Diamond 
was a good horse, and the one was all right on the 
back of the other. 

As soon as Diamond had got himself comfortable 
on the saddle place, the horse began pulling at the 
hay, and the boy began thinking. He had never 
mounted Diamond himself before, and he had never 
got off him without being lifted down. So he sat, 
while the horse ate, wondering how he was to reach 
the ground. 

But while he meditated, his mother woke, and her 
first thought was to see her boy. She had visited 
him twice during the night, and found him sleeping 
quietly. Now his bed was empty, and she was 
frightened. 

“Diamond! Diamond! Where are you, Dia¬ 
mond!” she called out. 


23 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Diamond turned his head where he sat like a 
knight on his steed in enchanted stall, and cried 
aloud,— 

“Here, mother !” 

“Where, Diamond!” she returned. 

“Here, mother, on Diamond’s back.” 

She came running to the ladder, and peeping 
down, saw him aloft on the great horse. 

“Come down, Diamond,” she said. 

“I can’t,” answered Diamond. 

“How did you get up?” asked his mother. 

“Quite easily,” answered he; “but when I got 
up, Diamond would get up too, and so here I am.” 

His mother thought he had been walking in his 
sleep again, and hurried down the ladder. She did 
not much like going up to the horse, for she had not 
been used to horses; but she would have gone into a 
lion’s den, not to say a horse’s stall, to help her boy. 
So she went and lifted him off Diamond’s back, and 
felt braver all her life after. She carried him in 
her arms up to her room; but, afraid of frighten¬ 
ing him at his own sleep-walking, as she supposed 
it, said nothing about last night. Before the next 
day was over, Diamond had almost concluded the 
whole adventure a dream. 

For a week his mother watched him very care¬ 
fully—going into the loft several times a night,—- 
as often, in fact, as she woke. Every time she found 
him fast asleep. 

All that week it was hard weather. The grass 
showed white in the morning with the hoar-frost 
which clung like tiny comfits to every blade. And 

24 


OLD DIAMOND 


as Diamond’s shoes were not good, and his mother 
had not quite saved up enough money to get him 
the new pair she so much wanted for him, she would 
not let him run out. He played all his games over 
and over indoors, especially that of driving two 
chairs harnessed to the baby’s cradle; and if they 
did not go very fast, they went as fast as could be 
expected of the best chairs in the world, although 
one of them had only three legs, and the other only 
half a back. 

At length his mother brought home his new shoes, 
and no sooner did she find they fitted him than she 
told him he might run out in the yard and amuse 
himself for an hour. 

The sun was going down when he flew from the 
door like a bird from its cage. All the world was 
new to him. A great fire of sunset burned on the 
top of the gate that led from the stables to the house; 
above the fire in the sky lay a large lake of green 
light, above that a golden cloud, and over that the 
blue of the wintry heavens. And Diamond thought 
that, next to his own home, he had never seen any 
place he would like so much to live in as that sky. 
For it is not fine things that make home a nice place, 
but your mother and your father. 

As he was looking at the lovely colours, the 
gates were thrown open, and there was old Diamond 
and his friend in the carriage, dancing with im¬ 
patience to get at their stalls and their oats. And 
in they came. Diamond was not in the least afraid 
of his father driving over him, hut, careful not to 
spoil the grand show he made with his fine horses 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


and his multitudinous cape, with a red edge to every 
fold, he slipped out of the way and let him dash right 
on to the stables. To be quite safe he had to step 
into the recess of the door that led from the yard 
to the shrubbery. 

As he stood there he remembered how the wind 
had driven him to this same spot on the night of his 
dream. And once more he was almost sure that it 
was no dream. At all events, he would go in and 
see whether things looked at all now as they did 
then. He opened the door, and passed through the 
little belt of shrubbery. Not a flower was to be seen 
in the beds on the lawn. Even the brave old chrys¬ 
anthemums and Christmas roses had passed away 
before the frost. What? Yes! There was one! 
He ran and knelt down to look at it. 

It was a primrose—a dwarfish thing, but perfect 
in shape—a baby-wonder. As he stooped his face 
to see it close, a little wind began to blow, and two 
or three long leaves that stood up behind the flower 
shook and waved and quivered, but the primrose 
lay still in the green hollow, looking up at the sky, 
and not seeming to know that the wind was blowing 
at all. It was just a one eye that the dull black 
wintry earth had opened to look at the sky with. 
All at once Diamond thought it was saying its pray¬ 
ers, and he ought not to be staring at it so. He 
ran to the stable to see his father make Diamond’s 
bed. Then his father took him in his arms, carried 
him up the ladder, and set him down at the table 
where they were going to have their tea. 

‘ 1 Miss is very poorly,” said Diamond’s father; 

26 


OLD DIAMOND 


“Mis’ess has been to the doctor with her to-day, 
and she looked very glnm when she came ont again. 
I was a-watching of them to see what doctor had 
said.” 

i6 And didn’t Miss look glum too?” asked his 
mother. 

“Not half as glum as Mis’ess,” returned the 
coachman. “You see-” 

But he lowered his voice, and Diamond could not 
make out more than a word here and there. For 
Diamond’s father was not only one of the finest of 
coachmen to look at, and one of the best of drivers, 
but one of the most discreet of servants as well. 
Therefore he did not talk about family affairs to 
any one hut his wife, whom he had proved better 
than himself long ago, and was careful that even 
Diamond should hear nothing he could repeat again 
concerning master and his family. 

It was bed-time soon, and Diamond went to bed 
and fell fast asleep. 

He awoke all at once, in the dark. 

“Open the window, Diamond,” said a voice. 

Now Diamond’s mother had once more pasted up 
North Wind’s window. 

“Are you North Wind?” said Diamond: “I don’t 
hear you blowing.” 

“No; but you hear me talking. Open the window, 
for I haven’t overmuch time.” 

“Yes,” returned Diamond. “But, please, North 
Wind, where’s the use? You left me all alone last 
time.” 

He had got up on his knees, and was busy with his 
27 



AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


nails once more at the paper over the hole in the 
wall. For now that North Wind spoke again, he 
remembered all that had taken place before as dis¬ 
tinctly as if it had happened only last night. 

“Yes, but that was your fault,’’ returned North 
Wind. “I had work to do; and, besides, a gentle¬ 
man should never keep a lady waiting.’ 9 

“But I’m not a gentleman,” said Diamond, 
scratching away at the paper. 

“I hope you won’t say so ten years after this.” 

“I’m going to be a coachman, and a coachman is 
not a gentleman,” persisted Diamond. 

“We call your father a gentleman in our house,” 
said North Wind. 

“He doesn’t call himself one,” said Diamond. 

“That’s of no consequence: every man ought to 
be a gentleman, and your father is one.” 

Diamond was so pleased to hear this that he 
scratched at the paper like ten mice, and getting 
hold of the edge of it, tore it off. The next instant 
a young girl glided across the bed, and stood upon 
the floor. 

“Oh dear!” said Diamond, quite dismayed; “I 
didn’t know—who are you, please?” 

“I’m North Wind.” 

14 Are you really ? ’ ’ 

“Yes. Make haste.” 

“But you’re no bigger than me.” 

“Do you think I care about how big or how little 
I am? Didn’t you see me this evening? I was less 
then.” 

“No. Where was you?” 


28 


OLD DIAMOND 


“Behind the leaves of the primrose. Didn’t you 
see them blowing?’’ 

“Yes.” 

“Make haste, then, if you want to go with me.” 

“But you are not big enough to take care of me. 
I think you are only Miss North Wind.” 

“I am big enough to show you the way, anyhow. 
But if you won’t come, why, you must stay.” 

“I must dress myself. I didn’t mind with a 
grown lady, but I couldn’t go with a little girl in my 
night-gown. ’ ’ 

“Very well. I’m not in such a hurry as I was 
the other night. Dress as fast as you can, and I’ll 
go and shake the primrose leaves till you come.” 

“Don’t hurt it,” said Diamond. 

North Wind broke out in a little laugh like the 
breaking of silver bubbles, and was gone in a mo¬ 
ment. Diamond saw—for it was a starlit night, and 
the mass of hay was at a low ebb now—the gleam 
of something vanishing down the stair, and, spring¬ 
ing out of bed, dressed himself as fast as ever he 
could. Then he crept out into the yard, through 
the door in the wall, and away to the primrose. Be¬ 
hind it stood North Wind, leaning over it, and look¬ 
ing at the flower as if she had been its mother. 

“Come along,” she said, jumping up and holding 
out her hand. 

Diamond took her hand. It was cold, but so 
pleasant and full of life, it was better than warm. 
She led him across the garden. With one bound 
she was on the top of the wall. Diamond was left 
at the foot. 


29 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“Stop, stop!” he cried. “Please, I can’t jump 
like that.” 

“You don’t try,” said North Wind, who from 
the top looked down a foot taller than before. 

“Give me your hand again, and I will try,” said 
Diamond. 

She reached down, Diamond laid hold of her hand, 
gave a great spring, and stood beside her. 

“This is nice!” he said. 

Another bound, and they stood in the road by the 
river. It was full tide, and the stars were shining 
clear in its depths, for it lay still, waiting for the 
turn to run down again to the sea. They walked 
along its side. But they had not walked far before 
its surface was covered with ripples, and the stars 
had vanished from its bosom. 

And North Wind was now tall as a full-grown 
girl. Her hair was flying about her head, and the 
wind was blowing a breeze down the river. But 
she turned aside and went up a narrow lane, and 
as she went her hair fell down around her. 

“I have some rather disagreeable work to do 
to-night,” she said, “before I get out to sea, and I 
must set about it at once. The disagreeable work 
must be looked after first.” 

So saying, she laid hold of Diamond and began 
to run, gliding along faster and faster. Diamond 
kept up with her as well as he could. She made 
many turnings and windings, apparently because it 
was not quite easy to get him over walls and houses. 
Once they ran through a hall where they found 
back and front doors open. At the foot of the stair 

30 



DIAMOND KEPT UP WITH HER AS WELL AS HE COULD 




OLD DIAMOND 


North Wind stood still, and Diamond, hearing a 
great growl, started in terror, and there, instead of 
North Wind, was a huge wolf by his side. He let 
go his hold in dismay, and the wolf bounded up the 
stair. The windows of the house rattled and shook 
as if guns were tiring, and the sound of a great fall 
came from above. Diamond stood with white face 
staring up at the landing. 

4 ‘Surely,’’ he thought, “North Wind can’t be eat¬ 
ing one of the children !” Coming to himself all at 
once, he rushed after her with his little fist clenched. 
There were ladies in long trains going up and down 
the stairs, and gentlemen in white neckties attending 
on them, who stared at him, but none of them were 
of the people of the house, and they said nothing. 
Before he reached the head of the stair, however, 
North Wind met him, took him by the hand, and 
hurried down and out of the house. 

“I hope you haven’t eaten a baby, North Wind!” 
said Diamond, very solemnly. 

North Wind laughed merrily, and went tripping 
on faster. Her grassy robe swept and swirled about 
her steps, and wherever it passed over withered 
leaves, they went fleeing and whirling in spirals, and 
running on their edges like wheels, all about her feet. 

“No,” she said at last, “I did not eat a baby. 
You would not have had to ask that foolish ques¬ 
tion if you had not let go your hold of me. You 
would have seen how I served a nurse that was 
calling a child bad names, and telling her she was 
wicked. She had been drinking. I saw an ugly gin 
bottle in a cupboard.” 


31 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“And yon frightened her?” said Diamond. 

“I believe so!” answered North Wind, laughing 
merrily. “I flew at her throat, and she tumbled 
over on the floor with such a crash that they ran in. 
She’ll be turned away to-morrow—and quite time, if 
they knew as much as I do.” 

“But didn’t you frighten the little one?” 

6 ‘ She never saw me. The woman would not have 
seen me either if she had not been wicked.’ ’ 

“Oh!” said Diamond, dubiously. 

“Why should you see things,” returned North 
Wind, “that you wouldn’t understand or know what 
to do with? Good people see good things; bad peo¬ 
ple, bad things.” 

“Then are you a bad thing?” 

“No. For you see me, Diamond, dear,” said the 
girl, and she looked down at him, and Diamond saw 
the loving eyes of the great lady beaming from the 
depths of her falling hair. 

“I had to make myself look like a bad thing be¬ 
fore she could see me. If I had put on any other 
shape than a wolf’s she would not have seen me, for 
that is what is growing to be her own shape inside 
of her.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Diamond, 
“but I suppose it’s all right.” 

They were now climbing the slope of a grassy 
ascent. It was Primrose Hill, in fact, although 
Diamond had never heard of it. The moment they 
reached the top, North Wind stood and turned her 
face towards London. The stars were still shining 
clear and cold overhead. There was not a cloud 


32 


OLD DIAMOND 


to be seen. The air was sharp, but Diamond did not 
find it cold. 

“Now,” said the lady, “whatever you do, do not 
let my hand go. I might have lost you the last time, 
only I was not in a hurry then: now I am in a 
hurry. ’’ 

Yet she stood still for a moment. 






IV. 

NORTH WIND 



ND as she stood looking towards 
London, Diamond saw that she 
was trembling. 

“Are yon cold, North Wind?” 
he asked. 

“No, Diamond,” she answered, looking down 
upon him with a smile; “I am only getting ready 
to sweep one of my rooms. Those careless, greedy, 
untidy children make it in such a mess.” 

As she spoke he could have told by her voice, if 
he had not seen with his eyes, that she was growing 
larger and larger. Her head went up and up to¬ 
wards the stars; and as she grew, still trembling 
through all her body, her hair also grew—longer and 
longer, and lifted itself from her head, and went out 
in black waves. The next moment, however, it fell 
back around her, and she grew less and less till she 
was only a tall woman. Then she put her hands 
behind her head, and gathered some of her hair, and 
began weaving and knotting it together. When she 


34 











NORTH WIND 


had done, she bent down her beautiful face close to 
nis, and said— 

“Diamond, I am afraid you would not keep hold 
of me, and if I were to drop you, I don’t know what 
might happen; so I have been making a place for 
you in my hair. Come.” 

Diamond held out his arms, for with that grand 
face looking at him, he believed like a baby. She 
took him in her hands, threw him over her shoulder, 
and said, “Get in, Diamond.” 

And Diamond parted her hair with his hands, 
crept between, and feeling about soon found the 
woven nest. It was just like a pocket, or like the 
shawl in which gipsy women carry their children. 
North Wind put her hands to her back, felt all about 
the nest, and finding it safe, said,— 

“Are you comfortable, Diamond!” 

“Yes, indeed,” answered Diamond. 

The next moment he was rising in the air. North 
Wind grew towering up to the place of the clouds. 
Her hair went streaming out from her, till it spread 
like a mist over the stars. She flung herself abroad 
in space. 

Diamond held on by two of the twisted ropes 
which, parted and interwoven, formed his shelter, 
for he could not help being a little afraid. As soon 
as he had come to himself, he peeped through the 
woven meshes, for he did not dare to look over the 
top of the nest. The earth was rushing past like 
a river or a sea below him. Trees, and water, and 
green grass hurried away beneath. A great roar of 
wild animals rose as they rushed over the Zoological 
35 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Gardens, mixed with a chattering of monkeys and a 
screaming of birds; hut it died away in a moment 
behind them. And now there was nothing but the 
roofs of houses, sweeping along like a great torrent 
of stones and rocks. Chimney-pots fell, and tiles 
flew from the roofs; but it looked to him as if they 
were left behind by the roofs and the chimneys as 
they scudded away. There was a great roaring, 
for the wind was dashing against London like a sea; 
but at North Wind’s back Diamond, of course, felt 
nothing of it all. He was in a perfect calm. He 
could hear the sound of it, that was all. 

By and by he raised himself and looked over the 
edge of his nest. There were the houses rushing up 
and shooting away below him, like a fierce torrent 
of rocks instead of water. Then he looked up to the 
sky, but could see no stars; they were hidden by 
the blinding masses of the lady’s hair which swept 
between. He began to wonder whether she would 
hear him if he spoke. He would try. 

“Please, North Wind,” he said, “what is that 
noise?” 

From high over his head came the voice of North 
Wind, answering him gently,— 

“The noise of my besom. I am the old woman 
that sweeps the cobwebs from the sky; only I’m busy 
with the floor now.” 

“What makes the houses look as if they were run¬ 
ning away?” 

“I am sweeping so fast over them.” 

“But, please, North Wind, I knew London was 
very big, but I didn’t know it was so big as this. 
It seems as if we should never get away from it.” 

36 


NORTH WIND 


“We are going round and round, else we should 
have left it long ago.” 

“Is this the way you sweep, North Wind?” 

“Yes; I go round and round with my great 
besom.” 

“Please, would you mind going a little slower, 
for I want to see the streets?” 

“You won’t see much now.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I have nearly swept all the people 
home.” 

“Oh! I forgot,” said Diamond, and was quiet 
after that, for he did not want to be troublesome. 

But she dropped a little towards the roofs of the 
houses, and Diamond could see down into the streets. 
There were very few people about, though. The 
lamps flickered and flared again, but nobody seemed 
to want them. 

Suddenly Diamond espied a little girl coming 
along a street. She was dreadfully blown by the 
wind, and a broom she was trailing behind her was 
very troublesome. It seemed as if the wind had 
a spite at her—it kept worrying her like a wild beast, 
and tearing at her rags. She was so lonely there! 

“Oh! please, North Wind,” he cried, “won’t you 
help that little girl?” 

“No, Diamond; I mustn’t leave my work.” 

“But why shouldn’t you be kind to her?” 

“I am kind to her: I am sweeping the wicked 
smells away.” 

“But you’re kinder to me, dear North Wind. 
Why shouldn’t you be as kind to her as you are 
to me?” 


37 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“There are reasons, Diamond. Everybody can’t 
be done to all the same. Everybody is not ready for 
the same thing.” 

“But I don’t see why I should be kinder used 
than she.” 

“Do you think nothing’s to be done but what 
you can see, Diamond, you silly! It’s all right. Of 
course you can help her if you like. You’ve got 
nothing particular to do at this moment; I have.” 

“Oh! do let me help her, then. But you won’t be 
able to wait, perhaps?” 

“No, I can’t wait; you must do it yourself. And, 
mind, the wind will get a hold of you too.” 

“Don’t you want me to help her, North Wind?” 

“Not without having some idea what will happen. 
If you break down and cry, that won’t be much of a 
help to her, and it will make a goose of little 
Diamond. ’ ’ 

“I want to go,” said Diamond. “Only there’s 
just one thing—how am I to get home?” 

“If you’re anxious about that, perhaps you had 
better go with me. I am bound to take you home 
again, if you do.” 

“There!” cried Diamond, who was still looking 
after the little girl; “I’m sure the wind will blow 
her over, and perhaps kill her. Do let me go.” 

They had been sweeping more slowly along the 
line of the street. There was a lull in the roaring. 

“Well, though I cannot promise to take you 
home,” said North Wind, as she sank nearer and 
nearer to the tops of the houses, “I can promise 
you it will be all right in the end. You will get 

38 


NORTH WIND 


home somehow. Have you made up your mind 
what to do?” 

“ Yes; to help the little girl,” said Diamond firmly. 

The same moment North Wind dropt into the 
street and stood, only a tall lady, hut with her hair 
flying up over the housetops. She put her hands 
to her back, took Diamond, and set him down in the 
street. The same moment he was caught in the 
fierce coils of the blast, and all but blown away. 
North Wind stepped back a pace, and at once tow¬ 
ered in stature to the height of the houses. A chim¬ 
ney-pot clashed at Diamond’s feet. He turned in 
terror, but it was to look for the little girl, and 
when he turned again the lady had vanished, and the 
wind was roaring along the street as if it had been 
the bed of an invisible torrent. The little girl was 
scudding before the blast, her hair flying too, and 
behind her she dragged her broom. Her little legs 
were going as fast as ever they could to keep her 
from falling. Diamond crept into the shelter of a 
doorway, thinking to stop her; hut she passed him 
like a bird, crying gently and pitifully. 

“Stop! stop! little girl,” shouted Diamond, start¬ 
ing in pursuit. 

“I can’t,” wailed the girl; “the wind won’t leave 
go of me.” 

Diamond could run faster than she, and he had 
no broom. In a few moments he had caught her by 
the frock. But it tore in his hand, and away went 
the little girl. So he had to run again, and this time 
he ran so fast that he got before her, and turning 
round caught her in his arms, when down they went 

39 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


both together, which made the little girl laugh in 
the midst of her crying. 

‘‘Where are you going?” asked Diamond, rubbing 
the elbow that had stuck farthest out. The arm it 
belonged to was twined round a lamp-post as he 
stood between the little girl and the wind. 

“Home,” she said, gasping for breath. 

‘ 4 Then I will go with you,” said Diamond. 

And then they were silent for a while, for the 
wind blew worse than ever, and they had both to 
hold on to the lamp-post. 

“Where is your crossing?” asked the girl at 
length. 

“I don’t sweep,” answered Diamond. 

“What do you do, then?” asked she. “You ain’t 
big enough for most things.” 

“I don’t know what I do do,” answered he, feel¬ 
ing rather ashamed. “Nothing, I suppose. My 
father’s Mr. Coleman’s coachman.” 

“Have you a father?” she said, staring at him as 
if a boy with a father was a natural curiosity. 

“Yes. Haven’t youf ” returned Diamond. 

“ No; nor mother neither. Old Sal’s all I ’ve got. ’ ’ 

And she began to cry again. 

“I wouldn’t go to her if she wasn’t good to me,” 
said Diamond. 

“But you must go somewheres.” 

“Move on,” said the voice of a policeman behind 
them. 

“I told you so,” said the girl. “You must go 
somewheres. They’re always at it.” 

“But old Sal doesn’t beat you, does she?” 

40 


NORTH WIND 


“I wish she would.” 

“What do you mean!” asked Diamond, quite be¬ 
wildered. 

“She would if she was my mother. But she 
wouldn’t lie abed a-cuddlin’ of her ugly old bones, 
and laugh to hear me crying at the door.” 

“You don’t mean she won’t let you in to-night?” 

“It’ll be a good chance if she does.” 

“Why are you out so late, then?” asked Diamond. 

“My crossing’s a long way off at the West End, 
and I had been indulgin’ in door-steps and mewses.” 

“We’d better have a try anyhow,” said Diamond. 
“Come along.” 

As he spoke Diamond thought he caught a glimpse 
of North Wind turning a corner in front of them; 
and when they turned the corner too, they found 
it quite quiet there, but he saw nothing of the lady. 

“Now you lead me,” he said, taking her hand, 
“and I’ll take care of you.” 

The girl withdrew her hand, but only to dry her 
eyes with her frock, for the other had enough to 
do with her broom. She put it in his again, and led 
him, turning after turning, until they stopped at a 
cellar-door in a very dirty lane. There she knocked. 

“I shouldn’t like to live here,” said Diamond. 

“Oh, yes, you would, if you had nowheres else 
to go to,” answered the girl. “I only wish we may 
get in. ’ ’ 

“I don’t want to go in,” said Diamond. 

“Where do you mean to go, then?” 

“Home to my home.” 

“Where’s that?” 


41 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“I don’t exactly know.” 

4 ‘Then you’re worse off than I am.” 

“Oh no, for North Wind—” began Diamond, and 
stopped, he hardly knew why. 

“What?” said the girl, as she held her ear to the 
door listening. 

But Diamond did not reply. Neither did old Sal. 

“I told you so,” said the girl. “She is wide 
awake hearkening. But we don’t get in.” 

“What will you do, then!” asked Diamond. 

“Move on,” she answered. 

“Where!” 

“Oh, anywheres. Bless you, I’m used to it.” 

“Hadn’t you better come home with me, then!” 

“That’s a good joke, when you don’t know where 
it is. Come on.” 

“But where!” 

“Oh, nowheres in particular. Come on.” 

Diamond obeyed. The wind had now fallen con¬ 
siderably. They wandered on and on, turning in 
this direction and that, without any reason for one 
way more than another, until they had got out of the 
thick of the houses into a waste kind of place. By 
this time they were both very tired. Diamond felt 
a good deal inclined to cry, and thought he had been 
very silly to get down from the back of the North 
Wind; not that he would have minded it if he had 
done the girl any good; but he thought he had been 
of no use to her. He was mistaken there, for she 
was far happier for having Diamond with her than 
if she had been wandering about alone. She did not 
seem so tired as he was. 


42 


NORTH WIND 


“Do let us rest a bit,” said Diamond. 

* 1 Let’s see,” she answered. ‘ 6 There’s something 
like a railway there. Perhaps there’s an open arch.’’ 

They went towards it and found one, and, better 
still, there was an empty barrel lying under the arch. 

“Hillo ! here we are!” said the girl. “A barrel’s 
the jolliest bed going—on the tramp, I mean. We’ll 
have forty winks, and then go on again.” 

She crept in, and Diamond crept in beside her. 
They put their arms round each other, and when 
he began to grow warm, Diamond’s courage began 
to come back. 

‘ 4 This is jolly!” he said. “Pm so glad!” 

“I don’t think so much of it,” said the girl. 
“I’m used to it, I suppose. But I can’t think how 
a kid like you comes to be out all alone this time o’ 
the night.” 

She called him a hid, but she was not really a 
month older than he was; only she had had to work 
for her bread, and that so soon makes people older. 

“But I shouldn’t have been out so late if I hadn’t 
got down to help you,” said Diamond. “North 
Wind is gone home long ago.” 

“I think you must ha’ got out o’ one o’ them 
Hidget Asylms,” said the girl. “You said some¬ 
thing about the north wind afore that I couldn’t 
get the rights of.” 

So now, for the sake of his character, Diamond 
had to tell her the whole story. 

She did not believe a word of it. She said she 
wasn’t such a flat as to believe all that bosh. But 
as she spoke there came a great blast of wind 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


through the arch, and set the barrel rolling. So 
they made haste to get out of it, for they had no 
notion of being rolled over and over as if they had 
been packed tight and wouldn’t hurt, like a barrel 
of herrings. 

“I thought we should have had a sleep,” said 
Diamond; “but I can’t say I’m very sleepy after 
all. Come, let’s go on again.” 

They wandered on and on, sometimes sitting on a 
door-step, but always turning into lanes or fields 
when they had a chance. 

They found themselves at last on a rising ground 
that sloped rather steeply on the other side. It was 
a waste kind of spot below, bounded by an irregular 
wall, with a few doors in it. Outside lay broken 
things in general, from garden rollers to flower¬ 
pots and wine-bottles. But the moment they reached 
the brow of the rising ground, a gust of wind seized 
them and blew them down hill as fast as they could 
run. Nor could Diamond stop before he went bang 
against one of the doors in the wall. To his dismay 
it burst open. When they came to themselves they 
peeped in. It was the back door of a garden. 

“Ah, ah!” cried Diamond, after staring for a 
few moments, “I thought so! North Wind takes 
nobody in! Here I am in master’s garden! I tell 
you what, little girl, you just bore a hole in old Sal’s 
wall, and put your mouth to it, and say, ‘Please, 
North Wind, mayn’t I go out with you?’ and then 
you’ll see what’ll come.” 

“I daresay I shall. But I’m out in the wind too 
often already to want more of it.” 

44 



IT WAS THE BACK DOOR OF A GARDEN 



NORTH WIND 


“I said with the North Wind, not in it.” 

“It’s all one.” 

“It’s not all one.” 

“It is all one.” 

“But I know best.” 

“And I know better. I’ll box your ears,” said 
the girl. 

Diamond got very angry. But he remembered 
that even if she did box bis ears, be mustn’t box 
hers again, for she was a girl, and all that boys 
must do, if girls are rude, is to go away and leave 
them. So be went in at the door. 

“Good-bye, mister,” said the girl. 

This brought Diamond to bis senses. 

“I’m sorry I was cross,’’ be said. ‘‘Come in, and 
my mother will give you some breakfast.” 

“No, thank you. I must be off to my crossing. 
It’s morning now.” 

“I’m very sorry for you,” said Diamond. 

“Well, it is a life to be tired of—what with old 
Sal, and so many holes in my shoes.” 

“I wonder you’re so good. I should kill myself.” 

“Ob, no, you wouldn’t! When I think of it, I 
always want to see what’s coming next, and so I 
always wait till next is over. Well! I suppose 
there’s somebody happy somewheres. But it ain’t 
in them carriages. Oh my! how they do look some¬ 
times—fit to bite your bead off! Good-bye!” 

She ran up the hill and disappeared behind it. 
Then Diamond shut the door as he best could, and 
ran through the kitchen-garden to the stable. And 
wasn’t he glad to get into his own blessed bed again! 

45 


V. 

THE SUMMER-HOUSE 



IAMOND said nothing to his 
mother about his adventures. 
He had half a notion that 
North Wind was a friend of his 
mother, and that, if she did not 
know all about it, at least she did not mind his going 
anywhere with the lady of the wind. At the same 
time he doubted whether he might not appear to he 
telling stories if he told all, especially as he could 
hardly believe it himself when he thought about it in 
the middle of the day, although when the twilight 
was once half-way on to night he had no doubt about 
it, at least for the first few days after he had been 
with her. The girl that swept the crossing had cer¬ 
tainly refused to believe him. Besides, he felt sure 
that North Wind would tell him if he ought to speak. 

It was some time before he saw the lady of the 
wind again. Indeed nothing remarkable took place 
in Diamond’s history until the following week. This 
was what happened then. Diamond the horse 


46 











THE SUMMER-HOUSE 


wanted new shoes, and Diamond’s father took him 
out of the stable, and was just getting on his back 
to ride him to the forge, when he saw his little boy 
standing by the pump, and looking at him wistfully. 
Then the coachman took his foot out of the stirrup, 
left his hold of the mane and bridle, came across to 
his boy, lifted him up, and setting him on the horse’s 
back, told him to sit up like a man. He then led 
away both Diamonds together. 

The boy atop felt not a little tremulous as the 
great muscles that lifted the legs of the horse 
knotted and relaxed against his legs, and he cowered 
towards the withers, grasping with his hands the bit 
of mane worn short by the collar; but when his 
father looked back at him, saying once more, 4 ‘Sit 
up, Diamond,” he let the mane go and sat up, not¬ 
withstanding that the horse, thinking, I suppose, 
that his master had said to him, “Come up, Dia¬ 
mond,” stepped out faster. For both the Diamonds 
were just grandly obedient. And Diamond soon 
found that, as he was obedient to his father, so the 
horse was obedient to him. For he had not ridden 
far before he found courage to reach forward and 
catch hold of the bridle, and when his father, whose 
hand was upon it, felt the boy pull it towards him, 
he looked up and smiled, and, well pleased, let go 
his hold, and left Diamond to guide Diamond; and 
the boy soon found that he could do so perfectly. 
It was a grand thing to be able to guide a great beast 
like that. And another discovery he made was that, 
in order to guide the horse, he had in a measure to 
obey the horse first. If he did not yield his body 
47 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

to the motions of the horse’s body, he could not 
guide him; he must fall off. 

The blacksmith lived at some distance, deeper 
into London. As they crossed the angle of a square, 
Diamond, who was now quite comfortable on his liv¬ 
ing throne, was glancing this way and that in a 
gentle pride, when he saw a girl sweeping a crossing 
scuddingly before a lady. The lady was his father’s 
mistress, Mrs. Coleman, and the little girl was she 
for whose sake he had got off North Wind’s back. 
He drew Diamond’s bridle in eager anxiety to see 
whether her outstretched hand would gather a penny 
from Mrs. Coleman. But she had given one at the 
last crossing, and the hand returned only to grasp 
its broom. Diamond could not bear it. He had a 
penny in his pocket, the gift of the same lady the 
day before, and he tumbled off his horse to give it 
to the girl. He tumbled off, I say, for he did tumble 
when he reached the ground. But he got up in an 
instant, and ran, searching his pocket as he ran. 
She made him a pretty courtesy when he offered his 
treasure, but with a bewildered stare. She thought 
first: ‘ 6 Then he was on the back of the North Wind 
after all!” but, looking up at the sound of the 
horse’s feet on the paved crossing, she changed 
her idea, saying to herself, “ North Wind is his 
father’s horse! That’s the secret of it! Why 
couldn’t he say so?” And she had a mind to refuse 
the penny. But his smile put it all right, and she 
not only took his penny but put it in her mouth with 
a ‘ ‘ Thank you, mister. Did they wollop you then ? ’ ’ 

“Oh no!” answered Diamond. “They never 
wollops me.” 


48 


THE SUMMER-HOUSE 


“Lor!” said the little girl, and was speechless. 

Meantime his father, looking up, and seeing the 
horse’s back bare, suffered a pang of awful dread, 
but the next moment catching sight of him, took 
him up and put him on, saying— 

“Don’t get off again, Diamond. The horse might 
have put his foot on you.” 

“No, father,” answered the boy, and rode on in 
majestic safety. 

The summer drew near, warm and splendid. Miss 
Coleman was a little better in health, and sat a good 
deal in the garden. One day she saw Diamond 
peeping through the shrubbery, and called him. He 
talked to her so frankly that she often sent for him 
after that, and by degrees it came about that he had 
leave to run in the garden as he pleased. He never 
touched any of the flowers or blossoms, for he was 
not like some boys who cannot enjoy a thing without 
pulling it to pieces, and so preventing every one 
from enjoying it after them. 

A week even makes such a long time in a child’s 
life, that Diamond had begun once more to feel as 
if North Wind were a dream of some far-off year. 

One hot evening, he had been sitting with the 
young mistress, as they called her, in a little sum¬ 
mer-house at the bottom of the lawn—a wonderful 
thing for beauty, the boy thought, for a little win¬ 
dow in the side of it was made of coloured glass. It 
grew dusky, and the lady began to feel chill, and 
went in, leaving the boy in the summer-house. He 
sat there gazing out at a bed of tulips, which, 
although they had closed for the night, could not go 
quite asleep for the wind that kept waving them 

49 


4 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


about. All at once he saw a great humble-bee fly 
out of one of the tulips. 

“There! that is something done,” said a voice— 
a gentle, merry, childish voice, but so tiny. “At 
last it was. I thought he would have had to stay 
there all night, poor fellow! I did.” 

Diamond could not tell whether the voice was near 
or far away, it was so small and yet so clear. He 
had never seen a fairy, but he had heard of such, 
and he began to look all about for one. And there 
was the tiniest creature sliding down the stem of 
the tulip! 

“Are you the fairy that herds the bees?” he 
asked, going out of the summer-house, and down on 
his knees on the green shore of the tulip-bed. 

“I’m not a fairy,” answered the little creature. 

11 How do you know that ? ’ ’ 

“It would become you better to ask how you are 
to know it.” 

“You’ve just told me.” 

“Yes. But what’s the use of knowing a thing 
only because you’re told it?” 

“Well, how am I to know you are not a fairy? 
You do look very like one.” 

“In the first place, fairies are much bigger than 
you see me.” 

“ Oh! ” said Diamond reflectively; “ I thought they 
were very little.” 

“But they might be tremendously bigger than I 
am, and yet not very big. Why, I could be six times 
the size I am, and not be very huge. Besides, a 
fairy can’t grow big and little at will, though the 

50 


THE SUMMER-HOUSE 

nursery-tales do say so: they don’t know better. 
You stupid Diamond! have you never seen me 
before?” 

And, as she spoke, a moan of wind bent the tulips 
almost to the ground, and the creature laid her 
hand on Diamond’s shoulder. In a moment he knew 
that it was North Wind. 

“I am very stupid,” he said; “but I never saw 
you so small before, not even when you were nurs¬ 
ing the primrose.” 

“Must you see me every size that can be measured 
before you know me, Diamond?” 

“But how could I think it was you taking care 
of a great stupid humble-bee?” 

“The more stupid he was the more need he had 
to be taken care of. What with sucking honey and 
trying to open the door, he was nearly dazed;, and 
when it opened in the morning to let the sun see the 
tulip’s heart, what would the sun have thought to 
find such a stupid thing lying there—with wings 
too?” 

‘ 4 But how do you have time to look after bees ? ’ ’ 

“I don’t look after bees. I had this one to look 
after. It was hard work, though.” 

“Hard work! Why, you could blow a chimney 
down, or—or—a boy’s cap oft,” said Diamond. 

“Both are easier than blow a tulip open. But I 
scarcely know the difference between hard and easy. 
I am always able for what I have to do. When I 
see my work, I just rush at it—and it is done. But 
I mustn’t chatter. I have got to sink a ship to¬ 
night. ’ ’ 


51 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


i ‘ Sink a ship! What! with men in it ? ’’ 

“Yes, and women too.” 

“How dreadful! I wish you wouldn’t talk so.” 

“It is rather dreadful. But it is my work. I 
must do it.” 

“I hope you won’t ask me to go with you.” 

“No, I won’t ask you. But you must come for 
all that.” 

“I won’t, then.” 

“Won’t you?” 

And North Wind grew a tall lady, and looked 
him in the eyes, and Diamond said— 

“Please take me. You cannot be cruel.” 

“No; I could not be cruel if I would. I can do 
nothing cruel, although I often do what looks like 
cruel to those who do not know what I really am 
doing. The people they say I drown, I only carry 
away to—to—to—well, the back of the North Wind 
—that is what they used to call it long ago, only I 
never saw the place.” 

“How can you carry them there if you never 
saw it?” 

“I know the way.” 

“But how is it you never saw it?” 

“Because it is behind me.” 

“But you can look round.” 

“Not far enough to see my own back. No; I 
always look before me. In fact, I grow quite blind 
and deaf when I try to see my back. I only mind 
my work. ’ ’ 

“But how does it be your work?” 

“Ah, that I can’t tell you. I only know it is, be- 
52 


THE SUMMER-HOUSE 


cause when I do it I feel all right, and when I don’t 
I feel all wrong. East Wind says—only one does 
not exactly know how much to believe of what she 
says, for she is very naughty sometimes—she says 
it is all managed by a baby; but whether she is good 
or naughty when she says that, I don’t know. I 
just stick to my work. It is all one to me to let a 
bee out of a tulip, or to sweep the cobwebs from the 
sky. You would like to go with me to-night ?” 

1 ‘ I don’t want to see a ship sunk. ’ ’ 

“But suppose I had to take you?” 

“Why, then, of course I must go.” 

“There’s a good Diamond.—I think I had better 
be growing a bit. Only you must go to bed first. 
I can’t take you till you’re in bed. That’s ihe law 
about the children. So I had better go and do some¬ 
thing else first.” 

“Very well, North Wind,” said Diamond. “What 
are you going to do first, if you please?” 

“I think I may tell you. Jump up on the top of 
the wall, there.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Ah! and I can’t help you—you haven’t been to 
bed yet, you see. Come out to the road with me, 
just in front of the coach-house, and I will show 
you.” 

North Wind grew very small indeed, so small 
that she could not have blown the dust off a dusty 
miller, as the Scotch children call a yellow auricula. 
Diamond could not even see the blades of grass 
move as she flitted along by his foot. They left the 
lawn, went out by the wicket in the coach-house 
53 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


gates, and then crossed the road to the low wall 
that separated it from the river. 

“You can get up on this wall, Diamond/’ said 
North Wind. 

“Yes; but my mother has forbidden me.” 

“Then don’t,” said North Wind. 

“But I can see over,” said Diamond. 

“Ah! to be sure. I can’t.” 

So saying, North Wind gave a little bound, and 
stood on the top of the wall. She was just about 
the height a dragon-fly would be, if it stood on end. 

“You darling!” said Diamond, seeing what a 
lovely little toy-woman she was. 

“Don’t be impertinent, Master Diamond,” said 
North Wind. “If there’s on© thing makes me more 
angry than another, it is the way you humans judge 
things by their size. I am quite as respectable now 
as I shall be six hours after this, when I take an East 
Indiaman by the royals, twist her round, and push 
her under. You have no right to address me in such 
a fashion.” 

But as she spoke, the tiny face wore the smile of 
a great grand woman. She was only having her 
own beautiful fun out of Diamond, and true wo¬ 
man’s fun never hurts. 

“But look there!” she resumed. “Do you see a 
boat with one man in it—a green and white boat?” 

“Yes; quite well.” 

“That’s a poet.” 

“I thought you said it was a bo-at.” 

‘‘ Stupid pet! Don’t you know what a poet is! ” 

“Why, a thing to sail on the water in.” 


54 


THE SUMMER-HOUSE 


“Well, perhaps you’re not so far wrong. Some 
poets do carry people over the sea. But I have no 
business to talk so much. The man is a poet.” 

“The boat is a boat,” said Diamond. 

“Can’t you spell?” asked North Wind. 

“Not very well.” 

“So I see. A poet is not a bo-at, as you call it. 
A poet is a man who is glad of something, and tries 
to make other people glad of it too.” 

“Ah! now I know. Like the man in the sweety- 
shop. ’ ’ 

“Not very. But I see it is no use. I wasn’t sent 
to tell you, and so I can’t tell you. I must be off. 
Only first just look at the man.” 

“He’s not much of a rower,” said Diamond— 
“paddling first with one fin and then with the 
other.” 

“Now look here!” said North Wind. 

And she flashed like a dragon-fly across the water, 
whose surface rippled and puckered as she passed. 
The next moment the man in the boat glanced about 
him, and bent to his oars. The boat flew over the 
rippling water. Man and boat and river were 
awake. The same instant almost, North Wind 
perched again upon the river wall. 

“How did you do that?” asked Diamond. 

“I blew in his face,” answered North Wind. 

“I don’t see how that could do it,” said Diamond. 

“I daresay not. And therefore you will say you 
don’t believe it could.” 

“No, no, dear North Wind. I know you too well 
not to believe you.” 


55 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“Well, I blew in bis face, and that woke him up.” 

“But what was the good of it!” 

“Why! don’t you see? Look at him—how he is 
pulling. I blew the mist out of him.” 

“How was that?” 

“That is just what I cannot tell you.” 

“But you did it.” 

“Yes. I have to do ten thousand things without 
being able to tell, how. ’’ 

“I don’t like that,” said Diamond. 

He was staring after the boat. Hearing no an¬ 
swer, he looked down to the wall. 

North Wind was gone. Away across the river 
went a long ripple—what sailors call a cat’s paw. 
The man in the boat was putting up a sail. The 
moon was coming to herself on the edge of a great 
cloud, and the sail began to shine white. Diamond 
rubbed his eyes, and wondered what it was all about. 
Things seemed going on around him, and all to un¬ 
derstand each other; but he could make nothing of 
it. So he put his hands in his pockets, and went 
in to have his tea. The night was very hot, for 
the wind had fallen again. 

“You don’t seem very well to-night, Diamond,” 
said his mother. 

“I am quite well, mother,” returned Diamond, 
who was only puzzled. 

“I think you had better go to bed,” she added. 

“Very well, mother,” he answered. 

He stopped for one moment to look out of the 
window. Above the moon the clouds were going 
different ways. Somehow or other this troubled 
56 


THE SUMMER-HOUSE 


him, but, notwithstanding, he was soon fast asleep. 

He woke in the middle of the night and the dark¬ 
ness. A terrible noise was rumbling overhead, like 
the rolling beat of great drums echoing through a 
brazen vault. The roof of the loft in which he lay 
had no ceiling; only the tiles were between him and 
the sky. For a while he could not come quite awake, 
for the noise kept beating him down, so that his 
heart was troubled and fluttered painfully. A 
second peal of thunder burst over his head, and 
almost choked him with fear. Nor did he recover 
until the great blast that followed, having torn some 
tiles off the roof, sent a spout of wind down into his 
bed and over his face, which brought him wide 
awake, and gave him back his courage. The same 
moment he heard a mighty yet musical voice calling 
him. 

“Come up, Diamond/’ it said. “It’s all ready. 
I’m waiting for you.” 

He looked out of the bed, and saw a gigantic, 
powerful, but most lovely arm—with a hand whose 
fingers were nothing the less ladylike that they could 
have strangled a boa-constrictor, or choked a tigress 
off its prey—stretched down through a big hole 
in the roof. Without a moment’s hesitation he 
reached out his tiny one, and laid it in the grand 
palm before him. 


VI. 

OUT IN THE STORM 



HE hand felt its way up his arm, 
and, grasping it gently and 
strongly above the elbow, lifted 
Diamond from the bed. The 
moment he was through the 
hole in the roof, all the winds of heaven seemed to 
lay hold upon him, and buffet him hither and thither. 
His hair blew one way, his night-gown another, his 
legs threatened to float from under him, and his 
head to grow dizzy with the swiftness of the invisible 
assailant. Cowering he dung with the other hand 
to the huge hand which held his arm, and fear in¬ 
vaded his heart. 

“Oh, North Wind!” he murmured, but the words 
vanished from his lips as he had seen the soap- 
bubbles that burst too soon vanish from the mouth 
of his pipe. The wind caught them, and they were 
nowhere. They couldn’t get out at all, but were torn 
away and strangled. And yet North Wind heard 
them, and in her answer it seemed to Diamond that 


58 













OUT IN THE STORM 


just because she was so big and could not help it, 
and just because her ear and her mouth must seem 
to him so dreadfully far away, she spoke to him 
more tenderly and graciously than ever before. Her 
voice was like the bass of a deep organ, without the 
groan in it; like the most delicate of violin tones 
without the wail in it; like the most glorious of 
trumpet-ejaculations without the defiance in it; like 
the sound of falling water without the clatter and 
clash in it: it was like all of them and neither of 
them—all of them without their faults, each of them 
without its peculiarity: after all, it was more like 
his mother’s voice than anything else in the world. 

“Diamond, dear,” she said, “be a man. What is 
fearful to you is not the least fearful to me.” 

“But it can’t hurt you,” murmured Diamond, 
“for you’re it.” 

“Then if I’m it, and have you in my arms, how 
can it hurt you?” 

“Oh yes! I see,” whispered Diamond. “But it 
looks so dreadful, and it pushes me about so.” 

“Yes, it does, my dear. That is what it was sent 
for.” 

At the same moment, a peal of thunder which 
shook Diamond’s heart against the sides of his 
bosom hurtled out of the heavens: I cannot say out 
of the sky, for there was no sky. Diamond had not 
seen the lightning, for he had been intent on finding 
the face of North Wind. Every moment the folds 
of her garment would sweep across his eyes and 
blind him, but between, he could just persuade him¬ 
self that he saw great glories of woman’s eyes look- 
59 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


ing down through rifts in the mountainous clouds 
over his head. 

He trembled so at the thunder, that his knees 
failed him, and he sunk down at North Wind’s feet, 
and clasped her round the column of her ankle. 
She instantly stooped and lifted him from the roof— 
up—up into her bosom, and held him there, saying, 
as if to an inconsolable child— 

“Diamond, dear, this will never do.” 

“Oh yes, it will,” answered Diamond. “I am all 
right now—quite comfortable, I assure you, dear 
North Wind. If you will only let me stay here, I 
shall be all right indeed.” 

“But you will feel the wind here, Diamond.” 

“I don’t mind that a bit, so long as I feel your 
arms through it,” answered Diamond, nestling 
closer to her grand bosom. 

“Brave boy!” returned North Wind, pressing 
him closer. 

“No,” said Diamond, “I don’t see that. It’s 
not courage at all, so long as I feel you there.” 

“But hadn’t you better get into my hair? Then 
you would not feel the wind; you will here.” 

“Ah, but, dear North Wind, you don’t know how 
nice it is to feel your arms about me. It is a thou¬ 
sand times better to have them and the wind to¬ 
gether, than to have only your hair and the back of 
your neck and no wind at all.” 

“But it is surely more comfortable there?” 

“Well, perhaps; but I begin to think there are 
better things than being comfortable.” 

“Yes, indeed there are. Well, I will keep you in 
60 


OUT IN THE STORM 


front of me. Yon will feel the wind, but not too 
much. I shall only want one arm to take care of 
yon; the other will be quite enough to sink the ship.” 
'■ “Oh, dear North Wind! how can you talk so?” 

“My dear boy, I never talk; I always mean what 
I say.” 

“Then you do mean to sink the ship with the 
other hand ? ’’ 

“Yes.” 

“It’s not like you.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Quite easily. Here you are taking care of a 
poor little hoy with one arm, and there you are sink¬ 
ing a ship with the other. It can’t be like you.” 

“Ah! but which is me? I can’t be two mes, you 
know. ’ ’ 

“No. Nobody can be two mes.” 

“Well, which me is me?” 

“Now I must think. There looks to be two.” 

“Yes. That’s the very point.—You can’t be 
knowing the thing you don’t know, can you?” 

“No.” 

“Which me do you know?” 

“The kindest, goodest, best me in the world,” 
answered Diamond, clinging to North Wind. 

“Why am I good to you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Have you ever done anything for me?” 

“No.” 

“Then I must be good to you because I choose 
to be good to you.” 

“Yes.” 


61 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“Why should I choose?” 

“Because—because—because you like.” 

“Why should I like to be good to you?” 

“I don’t know, except it be because it’s good to be 
good to me.” 

“That’s just it; I am good to you because I like 
to be good.” 

“Then why shouldn’t you be good to other people 
as well as to me?” 

“That’s just what I don’t know. Why shouldn’t 
I?” 

‘ 4 1 don’t know either. Then why shouldn’t you ? ’ ’ 

“Because I am.” 

“There it is again,” said Diamond. “I don’t see 
that you are. It looks quite the other thing.” 

“Well, but listen to me, Diamond. You know the 
one me, you say, and that is good. ’ ’ 

“Yes.” 

“Do you know the other me as well?” 

“No. I can’t. I shouldn’t like to.” 

t c There it is. You don’t know the other me. You 
are sure of one of them?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you are sure there can’t be two mes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then the me you don’t know must be the same as 
the me you do know,—else there would be two mes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then the other me you don’t know must be as 
kind as the me you do know?” 

“Yes.” 

“Besides, 1 tell you that it is so, only it doesn’t 
62 


OUT IN THE STORM 


look like it. That I confess freely. Have yon any¬ 
thing more to object ?” 

“No, no, dear North Wind; I am quite satisfied.” 
“Then I will tell yon something you might object. 
You might say that the me you know is like the other 
me, and that I am cruel all through. ’ ’ 

“I know that can’t be, because you are so kind.” 
“But that kindness might be only a pretence for 
the sake of being more cruel afterwards.’ 9 

Diamond clung to her tighter than ever, crying— 
“No, no, dear North Wind; I can’t believe that. 
I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it. That would 
kill me. I love you, and you must love me, else how 
did I come to love you? How could you know how 
to put on such a beautiful face if you did not love 
me and the rest? No. You may sink as many ships 
as you like, and I won’t say another word. I can’t 
say I shall like to see it, you know. ’ ’ 

“That’s quite another thing,” said North Wind; 
and as she spoke she gave one spring from the roof 
of the hay-loft, and rushed up into the clouds, with 
Diamond on her left arm close to her heart. And 
as if the clouds knew she had come, they burst into a 
fresh jubilation of thunderous light. For a few 
moments, Diamond seemed to be borne up through 
the depths of an ocean of dazzling flame; the next, 
the winds were writhing around him like a storm of 
serpents. For they were in the midst of the clouds 
and mists, and they of course took the shapes of the 
wind, eddying and wreathing and whirling and 
shooting and dashing about like gray and black 
water, so that it was as if the wind itself had taken 


63 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

shape, and he saw the gray and black wind tossing 
and raving most madly all about him. Now it 
blinded him by smiting him upon the eyes; now it 
deafened him by bellowing in his ears; for even 
when the thunder came he knew now that it was the 
billows of the great ocean of the air dashing against 
each other in their haste to fill the hollow scooped 
out by the lightning; now it took his breath quite 
away by sucking it from his body with the speed 
of its rush. But he did not mind it. He only 
gasped first and then laughed, for the arm of North 
Wind was about him, and he was leaning against 
her bosom. It is quite impossible for me to describe 
what he saw. Did you ever watch a great wave 
shoot into a winding passage amongst rocks? If 
you ever did, you would see that the water rushed 
every way at once, some of it even turning back 
and opposing the rest; greater confusion you might 
see nowhere except in a crowd of frightened people. 
Well, the wind was like that, except that it went 
much faster, and therefore was much wilder, and 
twisted and shot and curled and dodged and clashed 
and raved ten times more madly than anything else 
in creation except human passions. Diamond saw 
the threads of the lady’s hair streaking it all. In 
parts indeed he could not tell which was hair and 
which was black storm and vapour. It seemed 
sometimes that all the great billows of mist-muddy 
wind were woven out of the crossing lines of North 
Wind’s infinite hair, sweeping in endless intertwist¬ 
ings. And Diamond felt as the wind seized on his 
hair, which his mother kept rather long, as if he 

64 


OUT IN THE STORM 


too was a part of the storm, and some of its life 
went out from him. But so sheltered was he by 
North Wind’s arm and bosom that only at times, in 
the fiercer onslaught of some curl-billowed eddy, did 
he recognise for a moment how wild was the storm 
in which he was carried, nestling in its very core 
and formative centre. 

It seemed to Diamond likewise that they were 
motionless in this centre, and that all the confusion 
and fighting went on around them. Flash after 
flash illuminated the fierce chaos, revealing in varied 
yellow and blue and gray and dusky red the vapour- 
ous contention; peal after peal of thunder tore the 
infinite waste; but it seemed to Diamond that North 
Wind and he were motionless, all but the hair. It 
was not so. They were sweeping with the speed of 
the wind itself towards the sea. 



5 







VII. 

THE CATHEDRAL 



MUST not go on describing what 
cannot be described, for nothing 
is more wearisome. 

Before they reached the sea, 
Diamond felt North Wind’s hair 
beginning to fall about him. 

“Is the storm over, North Wind!” he called out. 
“No, Diamond. I am only waiting a moment to 
set you down. You would not like to see the ship 
sunk, and I am going to give you a place to stop in 
till I come back for you.” 

“Oh! thank you,” said Diamond. “I shall be 
sorry to leave you, North Wind, but I would rather 
not see the ship go down. And I’m afraid the poor 
people will cry, and I should hear them. Oh, dear! ’ ’ 
“There are a good many passengers on board; 
and to tell the truth, Diamond, I don’t care about 
your hearing the cry you speak of. I am afraid 
you would not get it out of your little head again for 
a long time.” 


66 




















THE CATHEDRAL 


“But how can you bear it then, North Wind? 
For I am sure you are kind. I shall never doubt 
that again.’’ 

‘ ‘ I will tell you how I am able to bear it, Diamond: 
I am always hearing, through every noise, through 
all the noise I am making myself even, the sound 
of a far-off song. I do not exactly know where it is, 
or what it means; and I don’t hear much of it, only 
the odour of its music, as it were, flitting across the 
great billows of the ocean outside this air in which 
I make such a storm; but what I do hear, is quite 
enough to make me able to bear the cry from the 
drowning ship. So it would you if you could hear 
it.” 

“No, it wouldn’t,” returned Diamond, stoutly. 
“For they wouldn’t hear the music of the far-away 
song; and if they did, it wouldn’t do them any good. 
You see you and I are not going to be drowned, and 
so we might enjoy it.” 

“But you have never heard the psalm, and you 
don’t know what it is like. Somehow, I can’t say 
how, it tells me that all is right; that it i§ coming 
to swallow up all cries.” 

“But that won’t do them any good—the people, I 
mean,” persisted Diamond. 

“It must. It must,” said North Wind, hurriedly. 
“It wouldn’t be the song it seems to be if it did not 
swallow up all their fear and pain too, and set them 
singing it themselves with the rest. I am sure it 
will. And do you know, ever since I knew I had 
hair, that is, ever since it began to go out and away, 
67 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

that song has been coming nearer and nearer. Only 
I must say it was some thousand years before I 
heard it.” 

6 ‘ But how can yon say it was coming nearer when 
yon did not hear it ? ” asked doubting little Diamond. 

“ Since I began to hear it, I know it is growing 
louder, therefore I judge it was coming nearer and 
nearer until I did hear it first. I’m not so very old,. 
you know—a few thousand years only—and I was 
quite a baby when I heard the noise first, but I knew 
it must come from the voices of people ever so much 
older and wiser than I was. I can’t sing at all, ex¬ 
cept now and then, and I can never tell what my song 
is going to be; I only know what it is after I have 
sung it.—But this will never do. Will you stop 
here?” 

“I can’t see anywhere to stop,” said Diamond. 
“Your hair is all down like a darkness, and I can’t 
see through it if I knock my eyes into it ever so 
much. ’ ’ 

“Look then,” said North Wind; and, with one 
sweep of her great white arm, she swept yards deep 
of darkness like a great curtain from before the face 
of the boy. 

And lo! it was a blue night, lit up with stars. 
Where it did not shine with stars it shimmered with 
the milk of the stars, except where, just opposite to 
Diamond’s face, the gray towers of a cathedral 
blotted out each its own shape of sky and stars. 

“Oh! what’s that?” cried Diamond, struck with a 
kind of terror, for he had never seen a cathedral, and 
it rose before him with an awful reality in the midst 
68 


THE CATHEDRAL 


of the wide spaces, conquering emptiness with 
grandeur. 

“A very good place for yon to wait in,” said 
North Wind. “But we shall go in, and you shall 
judge for yourself.” 

There was an open door in the middle of one of 
the towers, leading out upon the roof, and through 
it they passed. Then North Wind set Diamond on 
his feet, and he found himself at the top of a stone 
stair, which went twisting away down into the dark¬ 
ness. For only a little light came in at the door. 
It was enough, however, to allow Diamond to see 
that North Wind stood beside him. He looked up 
to find her face, and saw that she was no longer a 
beautiful giantess, but the tall gracious lady he liked 
best to see. She took his hand, and, giving him the 
broad part of the spiral stair to walk on, led him 
down a good way; then, opening another little door, 
led him out upon a narrow gallery that ran all round 
the central part of the church, on the ledges of the 
windows of the clerestory, and through openings in 
the parts of the wall that divided the windows from 
each other. It was very narrow, and except when 
they were passing through the wall, Diamond saw 
nothing to keep him from falling into the church. 
It lay below him like a great silent gulf hollowed in 
stone, and he held his breath for fear as he looked 
down. 

“What are you trembling for, little Diamond!” 
said the lady, as she walked gently along, with her 
hand held out behind her leading him, for there was 
not breadth enough for them to walk side by side. 

69 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“I am afraid of falling down there,” answered 
Diamond. “It is so deep down.” 

“Yes, rather,” answered North Wind; “but yon 
were a hundred times higher a few minutes ago.” 

“Ah, yes, hut somebody’s arm was about me 
then, ’ ’ said Diamond, putting his little mouth to the 
beautiful cold hand that had a hold of his. 

“What a dear little warm mouth you’ve got!” 
said North Wind. “It is a pity you should talk 
nonsense with it. Don’t you know I have a hold of 
you ? ’ ’ 

“Yes; but I’m walking on my own legs, and they 
might slip. I can’t trust myself so well as your 
arms.” 

“But I have a hold of you, I tell you, foolish 
child.” 

“Yes, but somehow I can’t feel comfortable.” 

“If you were to fall, and my hold of you were 
to give way, I should be down after you in a less 
moment than a lady’s watch can tick, and catch you 
long before you had reached the ground.” 

“I don’t like it, though,” said Diamond. 

“Oh! oh! oh!” he screamed the next moment, bent 
double with terror, for North Wind had let go her 
hold of his hand, and had vanished, leaving him 
standing as if rooted to the gallery. 

She left the words, “Come after me,” sounding 
in his ears. 

But move he dared not. In a moment more he 
would from very terror have fallen into the church, 
but suddenly there came a gentle breath of cool wind 
upon his face, and it kept blowing upon him in little 

70 


THE CATHEDRAL 


puffs, and at every puff Diamond felt his faintness 
going away, and his fear with it. Courage was re¬ 
viving in his little heart, and still the cool wafts of 
the soft wind breathed upon him, and the soft wind 
was so mighty and strong within its gentleness, 
that in a minute more Diamond was marching along 
the narrow ledge as fearless for the time as North 
Wind herself. 

He walked on and on, with the windows all in a 
row on one side of him, and the great empty nave of 
the church echoing to every one of his brave strides 
on the other, until at last he came to a little open 
door, from which a broader stair led him down and 
down and down, till at last all at once he found him¬ 
self in the arms of North Wind, who held him close 
to her, and kissed him on the forehead. Diamond 
nestled to her, and murmured into her bosom,— 

“Why did you leave me, dear North Wind?” 

“Because I wanted you to walk alone,” she 
answered. 

“But it is so much nicer here!” said Diamond. 

“I daresay; but I couldn’t hold a little coward 
to my heart. It would make me so cold! ’’ 

“But I wasn’t brave of myself,” said Diamond, 
whom my older readers will have already discovered 
to be a true child in this, that he was given to meta¬ 
physics. “It was the wind that blew in my face 
that made me brave. Wasn’t it now, North Wind?” 

“Yes: I know that. You had to be taught what 
courage was. And you couldn’t know what it was 
without feeling it: therefore it was given you. But 
don’t you feel as if you would try to be brave your¬ 
self next time?” 


71 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


‘ ‘ Yes, I do. But trying is not much. ’ ’ 

“Yes, it is—a very great deal, for it is a begin¬ 
ning. And a beginning is the greatest thing of all. 
To try to be brave is to be brave. The coward who 
tries to be brave is before the man who is brave 
because he is made so, and never had to try.” 

“How kind you are, North Wind!” 

“I am only just. All kindness is but justice. We 
owe it.” 

“I don’t quite understand that.” 

“Never mind; you will some day. There is no 
hurry about understanding it now.” 

‘ 4 Who blew the wind on me that made me brave ? ’ ’ 

“I did.” 

“I didn’t see you.” 

“Therefore you can believe me.” 

“Yes, yes; of course. But how was it that such 
a little breath could be so strong?” 

1 1 That I don’t know. ’ ’ 

“But you made it strong?” 

“No: I only blew it. I knew it would make you 
strong, just as it did the man in the boat, you remem¬ 
ber. But how my breath has that power I cannot 
tell. It was put into it when I was made. That is 
all I know. But really I must be going about my 
work. ’ ’ 

“Ah! the poor ship! I wish you would stop here, 
and let the poor ship go.” 

“That I dare not do. Will you stop here till I 
come back?” 

“Yes. You won’t be long?” 

“Not longer than I can help. Trust me, you shall 
get home before the morning.” 

72 


THE CATHEDRAL 


In a moment North Wind was gone, and the next 
Diamond heard a moaning about the church, which 
grew and grew to a roaring. The storm was up 
again, and he knew that North Wind’s hair was 
flying. 

The church was dark. Only a little light came 
through the windows, which were almost all of that 
precious old stained glass which is so much lovelier 
than the new. But Diamond could not see how beau¬ 
tiful they were, for there was not enough of light 
in the stars to show the colours of them. He could 
only just distinguish them from the walls. He 
looked up, but could not see the gallery along which 
he had passed. He could only tell where it was far 
up by the faint glimmer of the windows of the cleres¬ 
tory, whose sills made part of it. The church grew 
very lonely about him, and he began to feel like a 
child whose mother has forsaken it. Only he knew 
that to be left alone is not always to be forsaken. 

He began to feel his way about the place, and for 
a while went wandering up and down. His little 
footsteps waked little answering echoes in the great 
house. It wasn’t too big to mind him. It was as if 
the church knew he was there, and meant to make 
itself his house. So it went on giving back an 
answer to every step, until at length Diamond 
thought he should like to say something out loud, 
and see what the church would answer. But he 
found he was afraid to speak. He could not utter a 
word for fear of the loneliness. Perhaps it was as 
well that he did not, for the sound of a spoken word 
would have made him feel the place yet more de- 


73 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


serted and empty. But he thought he could sing. 
He was fond of singing, and at home he used to 
sing, to tunes of his own, all the nursery rhymes he 
knew. So he began to try Hey diddle diddle, but it 
wouldn’t do. Then he tried Little Boy Blue, but it 
was no better. Neither would Sing a Song of Six¬ 
pence sing itself at all. Then he tried Poor old 
Cockytoo, hut he wouldn’t do. They all sounded so 
silly! and he had never thought them silly before. 
So he was quiet, and listened to the echoes that 
came out of the dark corners in answer to his 
footsteps. 

At last he gave a great sigh, and said, “I’m so 
tired.” But he did not hear the gentle echo that 
answered from far away over his head, for at the 
same moment he came against the lowest of a few 
steps that stretched across the church, and fell down 
and hurt his arm. He cried a little first, and then 
crawled up the steps on his hands and knees. At 
the top he came to a little hit of carpet, on which he 
lay down; and there he lay staring at the dull win¬ 
dow that rose nearly a hundred feet above his head. 

Now this was the eastern window of the church, 
and the moon was at that moment just on the edge of 
the horizon. The next, she was peeping over it. 
And lo! with the moon, St. John and St. Paul, and 
the rest of them, began to dawn in the window in 
their lovely garments. Diamond did not know that 
the wonder-working moon was behind, and he 
thought all the light was coming out of the window 
itself, and that the good old men were appearing to 
help him, growing out of the night and the darkness, 

74 


THE CATHEDRAL 


because he had hurt his arm, and was very tired and 
lonely, and North Wind was so long in coming. So 
he lay and looked at them backwards over his head, 
wondering when they would come down or what they 
would do next. They were very dim, for the moon¬ 
light was not strong enough for the colours, and he 
had enough to do with his eyes trying to make out 
their shapes. So his eyes grew tired, and more and 
more tired, and his eyelids grew so heavy that they 
would keep tumbling down over his eyes. He kept 
lifting them and lifting them, but every time they 
were heavier than the last. It was no use: they 
were too much for him. Sometimes before he had 
got them half up, down they were again; and at 
length he gave it up quite, and the moment he gave 
it up, he was fast asleep. 









VIII. 

THE EAST WINDOW 



HAT Diamond had fallen fast 
asleep is very evident from the 
strange things he now fancied 
as taking place. For he thought 
he heard a sound as of whisper¬ 
ing up in the great window. He tried to open his 
eyes, but he could not. And the whispering went 
on and grew louder and louder, until he could hear 
every word that was said. He thought it was the 
Apostles talking about him. But he could not open 
his eyes. 

“And how comes he to be lying there, St. Peter!” 
said one. 

“I think I saw him a while ago up in the gallery, 
under the Nicodemus window. Perhaps he has 
fallen down. What do you think, St. Matthew!” 

“I don’t think he could have crept here after fall¬ 
ing from such a height. He must have been killed.” 

“What are we to do with him! We can’t leave 
him lying there. And we could not make him com- 
76 









THE EAST WINDOW 


f'ortable up here in the window: it’s rather crowded 
already. What do you say, St. Thomas ?” 

“Let’s go down and look at him.” 

There came a rustling, and a chinking, for some 
time, and then there was a silence, and Diamond 
felt somehow that all the Apostles were standing 
round him and looking down on him. And still he 
could not open his eyes. 

“What is the matter with him, St. Luke?” asked 
one. 

“There’s nothing the matter with him,” answered 
St. Luke, who must have joined the company of the 
Apostles from the next window, one would think. 
“He’s in a sound sleep.” 

‘ ‘I have it, ’ 9 cried another. ‘ ‘ This is one of North 
Wind’s tricks. She has caught him up and dropped 
him at our door, like a withered leaf or a foundling 
baby. I don’t understand that woman’s conduct, I 
must say. As if we hadn’t enough to do with our 
money, without going taking care of other people’s 
children! That’s not what our forefathers built 
cathedrals for.” 

Now Diamond could not bear to hear such things 
against North Wind, who. he knew, never played 
anybody a trick. She was far too busy with her own 
work for that. He struggled hard to open his eyes, 
but without success. 

“She should consider that a church is not a place 
for pranks, not to mention that we live in it,” said 
another. 

“It certainly is disrespectful of her. But she 
always is disrespectful. What right has she to bang 
77 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


at our windows as she has been doing the whole of 
this night? I daresay there is glass broken some¬ 
where. I know my blue robe is in a dreadful mess 
with the rain first and the dust after. It will cost 
me shillings to clean it.” 

Then Diamond knew that they could not he 
Apostles, talking like this. They could only be the 
sextons and vergers, and such-like, who got up at 
night, and put on the robes of deans and bishops, 
and called each other grand names, as the foolish 
servants he had heard his father tell of call them¬ 
selves lords and ladies, after their masters and 
mistresses. And he was so angry at their daring 
to abuse North Wind, that he jumped up, crying— 

“ North Wind knows best what she is about. She 
has a good right to blow the cobwebs from your 
windows, for she was sent to do it. She sweeps 
them away from grander places, I can tell you, for 
I ’ve been with her at it. ’’ 

This was what he began to say, hut as he spoke 
his eyes came wide open, and behold, there were 
neither Apostles nor vergers there—not even a win¬ 
dow with the effigies of holy men in it, hut a dark 
heap of hay all about him, and the little panes in the 
roof of his loft glimmering blue in the light of the 
morning. Old Diamond was coming awake down 
below in the stable. In a moment more he was on 
his feet, and shaking himself so that young Dia¬ 
mond’s bed trembled under him. 

“He’s grand at shaking himself,” said Diamond. 
“I wish I could shake myself like that. But then I 
can wash myself, and he can’t. What fun it would 

78 


THE EAST WINDOW 


be to see Old Diamond washing his face with his 
hoofs and iron shoes! Wouldn’t it be a picture?” 

So saving, he got up and dressed himself. Then 
he went out into the garden. There must have been 
a tremendous wind in the night, for although all was 
quiet now, there lay the little summer-house crushed 
to the ground, and over it the great elm-tree, which 
the wind had broken across, being much decayed in 
the middle. Diamond almost cried to see the wilder¬ 
ness of green leaves, which used to be so far up in 
the blue air, tossing about in the breeze, and liking 
it best when the wind blew it most, now lying so near 
the ground, and without any hope of ever getting 
up into the deep air again. 

“I wonder how old the tree is!” thought Diamond. 
“It must take a long time to get so near the sky as 
that poor tree was.” 

“Yes, indeed,” said a voice beside him, for Dia¬ 
mond had spoken the last words aloud. 

Diamond started, and looking around saw a clergy¬ 
man, a brother of Mrs. Coleman, who happened to be 
visiting her. He was a great scholar, and was in 
the habit of rising early. 

“Who are you, my man?” he added. 

“Little Diamond,” answered the boy. 

“Oh! I have heard of you. How do you come to 
be up so early?” 

“Because the sham Apostles talked such nonsense, 
they waked me up. ’ ’ 

The clergyman stared. Diamond saw that he had 
better have held his tongue, for he could not explain 
things. 


79 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“You must have been dreaming, my little man,” 
said he. ‘ 4 Dear! dear!” he went on, looking at the 
tree, “ there has been terrible work here. This is 
the north wind’s doing. What a pity! I wish we 
lived at the back of it, I’m sure. ’ 9 

“Where is that, sir?” asked Diamond. 

“Away in the Hyperborean regions,” answered 
the clergyman, smiling. 

“I never heard of the place,” returned Diamond. 

“I daresay not,” answered the clergyman; “but 
if this tree had been there now, it would not have 
been blown down, for there is no wind there . 9 9 

“But, please, sir, if it had been there,” said Dia¬ 
mond, “we should not have had to be sorry for it.” 

“Certainly not.” 

“Then we shouldn’t have had to be glad for it, 
either. ’ 9 

“You’re quite right, my boy,” said the clergyman, 
looking at him very kindly, as he turned away to 
the house, with his eyes bent towards the earth. But 
Diamond thought within himself, “I will ask North 
Wind next time I see her to take me to that country. 
I think she did speak about it once before. ’ 9 



IX. 

HOW DIAMOND GOT TO THE 
BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 



HEN Diamond went home to 
breakfast, lie found his father 
and mother already seated at the 
table. They were both busy 
with their bread and butter, and 
Diamond sat himself down in his usual place. His 
mother looked up at him, and, after watching him 
for a moment, said: 

“I don't think the hoy is looking well, husband.’’ 

“ Don’t you? Well, I don’t know. I think he 
looks pretty bobbish. How do you feel yourself, 
Diamond, my boy?” 

“Quite well, thank you, father; at least, I think 
I’ve got a little headache.” 

“There! I told you,” said his father and mother 
both at once. 

“The child’s very poorly,” added his mother. 

“The child’s quite well,” added his father. 

81 


6 












AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


And then they both laughed. 

“You see,” said his mother, “I’ve had a letter 
from my sister at Sandwich.” 

‘ ‘ Sleepy old hole! ’ ’ said his father. 

“Don’t abuse the place; there’s good people in 
it,” said his mother. 

“Eight, old lady,” returned his father; “only I 
don’t believe there are more than two pair of car¬ 
riage-horses in the whole blessed place.” 

“Well, people can get to heaven without carriages 
—or coachmen either, husband. Not that I should 
like to go without my coachman, you know. But 
about the boy?” 

“What boy?” 

“That boy, there, staring at you with his goggle- 
eyes. ’ ’ 

“Have I got goggle-eyes, mother?” asked Dia¬ 
mond, a little dismayed. 

“Not too goggle,” said his mother, who was quite 
proud of her boy’s eyes, only did not want to make 
him vain. ‘ 4 Not too goggle; only you need not stare 
so.” 

“Well, what about him?” said his father. 

“I told you I had got a letter.” 

“Yes, from your sister; not from Diamond.” 

“La, husband! you’ve got out of bed the wrong 
leg first this morning, I do believe.” 

“I always get out with both at once,” said his 
father, laughing. 

“Well, listen then. His aunt wants the boy to go 
down and see her.” 

“And that’s why you want to make out that he 
ain’t looking well.” 


82 


DIAMOND S JOURNEY 


“No more he is. I think he had better go.” 

“Well, I don’t care, if you can find the money,” 
said his father. 

“ I ’ll manage that, ’ ’ said his mother; and so it was 
agreed that Diamond should go to Sandwich. 

I will not describe the preparations Diamond 
made. You would have thought he had been going 
on a three months’ voyage. Nor will I describe the 
journey, for our business is now at the place. He 
was met at the station by his aunt, a cheerful middle- 
aged woman, and conveyed in safety to the sleepy 
old town, as his father called it. And no wonder 
that it was sleepy, for it was nearly dead of old age. 

Diamond went about staring with his beautiful 
goggle-eyes, at the quaint old streets, and the shops, 
and the houses. Everything looked very strange, 
indeed; for here was a town abandoned by its nurse, 
the sea, like an old oyster left on the shore till it 
gaped for weariness. It used to be one of the five 
chief seaports in England, hut it began to hold itself 
too high, and the consequence was the sea grew less 
and less intimate with it, gradually drew back, and 
kept more to itself, till at length it left it high and 
dry: Sandwich was a seaport no more; the sea went 
on with its own tide-business a long way off, and 
forgot it. Of course it went to sleep, and had no 
more to do with ships. That’s what comes to cities 
and nations, and boys and girls, who say, “I can 
do without your help. I’m enough for myself.” 

Diamond soon made great friends with an old 
woman who kept a toyshop, for his mother had given 
him twopence for pocket-money before he left, and 
he had gone into her shop to spend it, and she got 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

talking to him. She looked very funny, because she 
had not got any teeth, but Diamond liked her, and 
went often to her shop, although he had nothing to 
spend there after the twopence was gone. 

One afternoon he had been wandering rather wea¬ 
rily about the streets for some time. It was a hot 
day, and he felt tired. As he passed the toyshop, 
he stepped in. 

“Please may I sit down for a minute on this box?” 
he said, thinking the old woman was somewhere in 
the shop. But he got no answer, and sat down with¬ 
out one. Around him were a great many toys of 
all prices, from a penny up to shillings. All at once 
he heard a gentle whirring somewhere amongst 
them. It made him start and look behind him. 
There were the sails of a windmill going round and 
round almost close to his ear. He thought at first 
it must be one of those toys which are wound up 
and go with clockwork; but no, it was a common 
penny toy, with the windmill at the end of a whistle, 
and when the whistle blows the windmill goes. But 
the wonder was that there was no one at the whistle 
end blowing, and yet the sails were turning round 
and round—now faster, now slower, now faster 
again. 

“What can it mean?” said Diamond, aloud. 

“It means me,” said the tiniest voice he had ever 
heard. 

“Who are you, please?” asked Diamond. 

“Well, really, I begin to be ashamed of you,” 
said the voice. “I wonder how long it will be be¬ 
fore you know me; or how often I might take you 
84 


DIAMOND’S JOURNEY 


in before you got sharp enough to suspect me. You 
are as bad as a baby that doesn’t know his mother 
in a new bonnet.” 

“Not quite so bad as that, dear North Wind,” 
said Diamond, “for I didn’t see you at all, and in¬ 
deed I don’t see you yet, although I recognise your 
voice. Do grow a little, please.” 

“Not a hair’s-breadtli,” said the voice, and it was 
the smallest voice that ever spoke. “What are you 
doing here?” 

“I am come to see my aunt. But, please, North 
Wind, why didn’t you come back for me in the 
church that night?” 

“I did. I carried you safe home. All the time 
you were dreaming about the glass apostles, you 
were lying in my arms.” 

“I’m so glad,” said Diamond. “I thought that 
must be it, only I wanted to hear you say so. Did 
you sink the ship, then ? ’ ’ 

“Yes.” 

“And drown everybody?” 

“Not quite. One boat got away with six or seven 
men in it.” 

“How could the boat swim when the ship 
couldn’t?” 

“Of course I had some trouble with it. I had to 
contrive a bit, and manage the waves a little. When 
they’re once thoroughly waked up, I have a good 
deal of trouble with them sometimes. They’re apt 
to get stupid with tumbling over each other’s heads. 
That’s when they’re fairly at it. However, the boat 
got to a desert island before noon next day.” 

85 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“And what good will come of that?” 

“I don’t know. I obeyed orders. Good-bye.” 

“Oh! stay, North Wind, do stay!” cried Diamond, 
dismayed to see the windmill get slower and slower. 

“What is it, my dear child?” said North Wind, 
and the windmill began turning again so swiftly that 
Diamond could scarcely see it. “What a big voice 
you’ve got! and what a noise you do make with it! 
What is it you want? I have little to do, but that 
little must be done.” 

* ‘ I want you to take me to the country at the back 
of the north wind. ’ ’ 

“That’s not so easy,” said North Wind, and was 
silent for so long that Diamond thought she was 
gone indeed. But after he had quite given her up, 
the voice began again. 

“I almost wish old Herodotus had held his tongue 
about it. Much he knew of it! ” 

“Why do you wish that, North Wind?” 

“Because then that clergyman would never have 
heard of it, and set you wanting to go. But we shall 
see. We shall see. You must go home now, my 
dear, for you don’t seem very well, and I’ll see what 
can be done for you. Don’t wait for me. I’ve got 
to break a few of old Goody’s toys: she’s thinking 
too much of her new stock. Two or three will do. 
There! go now. ’ ’ 

Diamond rose, quite sorry, and without a word 
left the shop, and went home. 

It soon appeared that his mother had been right 
about him, for that same afternoon his head began 
to ache very much, and he had to go to bed. 

He awoke in the middle of the night. The lattice 
86 


DIAMOND S JOURNEY 


window of his room had blown open, and the curtains 
of his little bed were swinging about in the wind. 

‘‘If that should be North Wind now!” thought 
Diamond. 

But the next moment he heard some one closing 
the window, and his aunt came to the bedside. She 
put her hand on his face, and said— 

“How’s your head, dear?” 

“Better, auntie, I think.” 

“Would you like something to drink?” 

“Oh, yes! I should, please.” 

So his aunt gave him some lemonade, for she had 
been used to nursing sick people, and Diamond felt 
very much refreshed, and laid his head down again 
to go very fast asleep, as he thought. And so he 
did, but only to come awake again, as a fresh burst 
of wind blew the lattice open a second time. The 
same moment he found himself in a cloud of North 
Wind’s hair, with her beautiful face, set in it like a 
moon, bending over him. 

“Quick, Diamond!” she said. “I have found 
such a chance! ’ ’ 

“But I’m not well,” said Diamond. 

“I know that, but you will be better for a little 
fresh air. You shall have plenty of that.” 

“You want me to go, then?” 

“Yes, I do. It won’t hurt you.” 

“Very well,” said Diamond; and getting out of 
the bedclothes, he jumped into North Wind’s arms. 

“We must make haste before your aunt comes,” 
said she, as she glided out of the open lattice and 
left it swinging. 

The moment Diamond felt her arms fold around 


87 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


him he began to feel better. It was a moonless 
night, and very dark, with glimpses of stars when 
the clouds parted. 

“I used to dash the waves about here,” said North 
Wind, “where cows and sheep are feeding now; 
but we shall soon get to them. There they are.” 

And Diamond, looking down, saw the white glim¬ 
mer of breaking water far below him. 

“ You see, Diamond,” said North Wind, “it is very 
difficult for me to get you to the back of the north 
wind, for that country lies in the very north itself, 
and of course I can’t blow northwards.” 

“Why not!” asked Diamond. 

“You little silly!” said North Wind. “Don’t you 
see that if I were to blow northwards I should be 
South Wind, and that is as much as to say that one 
person could be two persons!” 

“But how can you ever get home at all, then!” 

“You are quite right—that is my home, though I 
never get farther than the outer door. I sit on the 
doorstep, and hear the voices inside. I am nobody 
there, Diamond.” 

“I’m very sorry.” 

“Why!”' 

11 That you should be nobody. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I don’t mind it. Dear little man! you will 
be very glad some day to be nobody yourself. But 
you can’t understand that now, and you had better 
not try; for if you do, you will be certain to go fancy¬ 
ing some egregious nonsense, and making yourself 
miserable about it.” 

“Then I won’t,” said Diamond. 

88 


DIAMOND'S JOURNEY 

“There’s a good boy. It will all come in good 
time. ’ ’ 

“But you haven’t told me how yon get to the 
doorstep, yon know.” 

“It is easy enough for me. I have only to consent 
to be nobody, and there I am. I draw into myself, 
and there I am on the doorstep. But you can easily 
see, or you have less sense than I think, that to drag 
you, you heavy thing, along with me, would take 
centuries, and I could not give the time to it.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said Diamond. 

“What for now, pet?” 

“That I’m so heavy for you. I would be lighter 
if I could, but I don’t know how.” 

“You silly darling! Why, I could toss you a hun¬ 
dred miles from me if I liked. It is only when I am 
going home that I shall find you heavy. ’ ’ 

( ‘ Then you are going home with me ? ’ ’ 

“Of course. Did I not come to fetch you just 
for that?” 

“But all this time you must be going southwards.” 

“Yes. Of course I am.” 

“How can you be taking me northwards, then?” 

“A very sensible question. But you shall see. I 
will get rid of a few of these clouds—only they do 
come up so fast! It’s like trying to blow a brook 
dry. There! What do you see now?” 

“I think I see a little boat, away there, down 
below. ’ ’ 

“A little boat, indeed! Well! She’s a yacht of 
two hundred tons; and the captain of it is a friend of 
mine; for he is a man of good sense, and can sail 


89 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

his craft well. I’ve helped him many a time when 
he little thought it. I’ve heard him grumbling at 
me, when I was doing the very best I could for him. 
Why, IVe carried him eighty miles a day, again 
and again, right north.’’ 

“He must have dodged for that,” said Diamond, 
who had been watching the vessels, and had seen that 
they went other ways than the wind blew. 

“Of course he must. But don’t you see, it was 
the best I could do? I couldn’t be South Wind. 
And besides it gave him a share in the business. It 
is not good at all—mind that, Diamond—to do every¬ 
thing for those you love, and not give them a share 
in the doing. It’s not kind. It’s making too much 
of yourself, my child. If I had been South Wind, 
he would only have smoked his pipe all day, and 
made himself stupid.” 

‘ ‘ But how could he be a man of sense and grumble 
at you when you were doing your best for him?” 

“Oh! you must make allowances,” said North 
Wind, “or you will never do justice to anybody.— 
You do understand, then, that a captain may sail 
north-” 

“In spite of a north wind—-yes,” supplemented 
Diamond. 

“Now, I do think you must be stupid, my dear,” 
said North Wind. ‘ ‘ Suppose the north wind did not 
blow, where would he be then?” 

“Why then the south wind would carry him.” 

“So you think that when the north wind stops the 
south wind blows. Nonsense. If I didn’t blow, the 
captain couldn’t sail his eighty miles a day. No 

90 


DIAMOND’S JOURNEY 


doubt South Wind would carry him faster, but South 
Wind is sitting on her doorstep then, and if I stopped 
there would be a dead calm. So you are all wrong 
to say he can sail north in spite of me; he sails north 
by my help, and my help alone. You see that, 
Diamond ? ’’ 

“ Yes, I do, North Wind. I am stupid, but I don’t 
want to be stupid. ’’ 

6 ‘ Good boy! I am going to blow you north in that 
little craft, one of the finest that ever sailed the sea. 
Here we are, right over it. I shall be blowing 
against you; you will be sailing against me; and all 
will be just as we want it. The captain won’t get on 
so fast as he would like, but he will get on, and so 
shall we. I’m just going to put you on board. Do 
you see in front of the tiller—that thing the man is 
working, now to one side, now to the other—a round 
thing like the top of a drum?” 

“Yes,” said Diamond. 

“Below that is where they keep their spare sails, 
and some stores of that sort. I am going to blow 
that cover off. The same moment I will drop you 
on deck, and you must tumble in. Don’t be afraid, 
it is of no depth, and you will fall on a roll of sail¬ 
cloth. You will find it nice and warm and dry—only 
dark; and you will know I am near you by every 
roll and pitch of the vessel. Coil yourself up and 
go to sleep. The yacht shall be my cradle, and you 
shall be my baby.” 

“Thank you, dear North Wind. I am not a bit 
afraid,” said Diamond. 

In a moment they were on a level with the bul- 


91 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


warks, and North Wind sent the hatch of the after¬ 
store rattling away over the deck to leeward. The 
next, Diamond found himself in the dark, for he had 
tumbled through the hole as North Wind had told 
him, and the cover was replaced over his head. 
Away he went rolling to leeward, for the wind began 
all at once to blow hard. He heard the call of the 
captain, and the loud trampling of the men over his 
head, as they hauled at the main sheet to get the 
boom on board that they might take in a reef in the 
mainsail. Diamond felt about until he had found 
what seemed the most comfortable place, and there 
he snuggled down and lay. 

Hours after hours, a great many of them, went 
by; and still Diamond lay there. He never felt in 
the least tired or impatient, for a strange pleasure 
tilled his heart. The straining of the masts, the 
creaking of the boom, the singing of the ropes, the 
banging of the blocks as they put the vessel about, 
all fell in with the roaring of the wind above, the 
surge of the waves past her sides, and the thud with 
which every now and then one would strike her; 
while through it all Diamond could hear the gurgling, 
rippling, talking flow of the water against her 
planks, as she slipped through it, lying now on this 
side, now on that—like a subdued air running 
through the grand music his North Wind was mak¬ 
ing about him to keep him from tiring as they sped 
on towards the country at the back of her doorstep. 

How long this lasted Diamond had no idea. He 
seemed to fall asleep sometimes, only through the 
sleep he heard the sounds going on. At length the 

92 


DIAMOND’S JOURNEY 


weather seemed to get worse. The confusion and 
trampling of feet grew more frequent over his head; 
the vessel lay over more and more on her side, and 
went roaring through the waves, which banged and 
thumped at her as if in anger. All at once arose a 
terrible uproar. The hatch was blown off; a cold 
fierce wind swept in upon him; and a long arm came 
with it which laid hold of him and lifted him out. 
The same moment he saw the little vessel far below 
him righting herself. She had taken in all her sails 
and lay now tossing on the waves like a sea-bird with 
folded wings. A short distance to the south lay a 
much larger vessel, with two or three sails set, and 
towards it North Wind was carrying Diamond. It 
was a German ship, on its way to the North Pole. 

“That vessel down there will give us a lift now,” 
said North Wind; “and after that I must do the best 
I can.” 

She managed to hide him amongst the flags of the 
big ship, which were all snugly stowed away, and 
on and on they sped towards the north. At length 
one night she whispered in his ear, “Come on deck, 
Diamond;’ ’ and he got up at once and crept on deck. 
Everything looked very strange. Here and there 
on all sides were huge masses of floating ice, looking 
like cathedrals, and castles, and crags, while away 
beyond was a blue sea. 

“Is the sun rising or setting!” asked Diamond. 

“Neither or both, which you please. I can hardly 
tell which myself. If he is setting now, he will 
be rising the next moment.” 

“What a strange light it is!” said Diamond. “I 

93 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


have heard that the sun doesn’t go to bed all the sum¬ 
mer in these parts. Miss Coleman told me that. I 
suppose he feels very sleepy, and that is why the 
light he sends out looks so like a dream.” 

“That will account for it well enough for all prac¬ 
tical purposes,” said North Wind. 

Some of the icebergs were drifting northward: 
one was passing very near the ship. North Wind 
seized Diamond, and with a single bound lighted on 
one of them—a huge thing, with sharp pinnacles and 
great clefts. The same instant a wind began to blow 
from the south. North Wind hurried Diamond 
down the north side of the iceberg, stepping by its 
jags and splintering; for this berg had never got far 
enough south to be melted and smoothed by the 
summer sun. She brought him to a cave near the 
water, where she entered, and, letting Diamond go, 
sat down as if weary on a ledge of ice. 

Diamond seated himself on the other side, and for 
a while was enraptured with the colour of the air 
inside the cave. It was a deep, dazzling, lovely blue, 
deeper than the deepest blue of the sky. The blue 
seemed to be in constant motion, like the blackness 
when you press your eyeballs with your fingers, boil¬ 
ing and sparkling. But when he looked across to 
North Wind he was frightened; her face was worn 
and livid. 

“ What is the matter with you, dear North Wind?” 
he said. 

“Nothing much. I feel very faint. But you 
mustn’t mind it, for I can bear it quite well. South 
Wind always blows me faint. If it were not for the 

94 


DIAMOND’S JOURNEY 


cool of tlie thick ice between me and her, I should 
faint altogether. Indeed, as it is, I fear I must 
vanish. ’’ 

Diamond stared at her in terror, for he saw that 
her form and face were growing, not small, but 
transparent, like something dissolving, not in water, 
but in light. He could see the side of the blue cave 
through her very heart. And she melted away till 
all that was left was a pale face, like the moon in 
the morning, with two great lucid eyes in it. 

“I am going, Diamond/’ she said. 

“Does it hurt you?” asked Diamond. 

“It’s very uncomfortable,” she answered; “hut I 
don’t mind it, for I shall come all right again before 
long. I thought I should be able to go with you all 
the way, but I cannot. You must not be frightened 
though. Just go straight on, and you will come all 
right. You’ll find me on the doorstep.” 

As she spoke, her face too faded quite away, only 
Diamond thought he could still see her eyes shining 
through the blue. When he went closer, however, he 
found that what he thought her eyes were only two 
hollows in the ice. North Wind was quite gone; and 
Diamond would have cried, if he had not trusted her 
so thoroughly. So he sat still in the blue air of the 
cavern listening to the wash and ripple of the water 
all about the base of the iceberg, as it sped on and on 
into the open sea northwards. It was an excellent 
craft to go with a current, for there was twice as 
much of it below water as above. But a light south 
wind was blowing too, and so it went fast. 

After a little while Diamond went out and sat on 


95 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


the edge of his floating island, and looked down into 
the ocean beneath him. The white sides of the berg 
reflected so much light below the water, that he could 
see far down into the green abyss. Sometimes he 
fancied he saw the eyes of North Wind looking up 
at him from below, but the fancy never lasted beyond 
the moment of its birth. And the time passed he 
did not know how, for he felt as if he were in a 
dream. When he got tired of the green water, he 
went into the blue cave; and when he got tired of the 
blue cave he went out and gazed all about him on the 
blue sea, ever sparkling in the sun, which kept wheel¬ 
ing about the sky, never going below the horizon. 
But he chiefly gazed northwards, to see whether any 
land were appearing. All this time he never wanted 
to eat. He broke off little bits of the berg now and 
then and sucked them, and he thought them very 
nice. 

At length, one time he came out of his cave, he 
spied, far off upon the horizon, a shining peak that 
rose into the sky like the top of some tremendous 
iceberg; and his vessel was bearing him straight 
towards it. As it went on the peak rose and rose 
higher and higher above the horizon; and other 
peaks rose after it, with sharp edges and jagged 
ridges connecting them. Diamond thought this 
must be the place he was going to; and he was right; 
for the mountains rose and rose, till he saw the line 
of the coast at their feet, and at length the iceberg 
drove into a little bay, all round which were lofty 
precipices with snow on their tops, and streaks of 
ice down their sides. The berg floated slowly up to 

96 



HE WAS SURE IT WAS NORTH WIND, BUT HE THOUGHT SHE MUST BE DEAD AT LAST 








DIAMOND’S JOURNEY 


a projecting rock. Diamond stepped on shore, and 
without looking behind him began to follow a natural 
path which led windingly towards the top of the 
precipice. 

When he reached it, he found himself on a broad 
table of ice, along which he could walk without much 
difficulty. Before him, at a considerable distance, 
rose a lofty ridge of ice, which shot up into fantastic 
pinnacles and towers and battlements. The air was 
very cold, and seemed somehow dead, for there was 
not the slightest breath of wind. 

In the centre of the ridge before him appeared 
a gap like the opening of a valley. But as he walked 
towards it, gazing, and wondering whether that 
could be the way he had to take, he saw that what 
had appeared a gap was the form of a woman 
seated against the ice front of the ridge, leaning 
forward with her hands in her lap, and her hair 
hanging down to the ground. 

“It is North Wind on her doorstep,’’ said Dia¬ 
mond joyfully, and hurried on. 

He soon came up to the place, and there the form 
sat, like one of the great figures at the door of an 
Egyptian temple, motionless, with drooping arms 
and head. Then Diamond grew frightened, because 
she did not move nor speak. He was sure it was 
North Wind, but he thought she must be dead at last. 
Her face was white as the snow, her eyes were blue 
as the air in the ice-cave, and her hair hung down 
straight, like icicles. She had on a greenish robe, 
like the colour in the hollows of a glacier seen from 
far off. 

7 97 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


He stood up before her, and gazed fearfully into 
her face for a few minutes before he ventured to 
speak. At length, with a great effort and a trem¬ 
bling voice, he faltered out— 

“North Wind!” 

“Well, child?” said the form, without lifting its 
head. 

“Are you ill, dear North Wind?” 

“No. I am waiting.’’ 

“What for?” 

“Till I’m wanted.” 

“You don’t care for me any more,” said Diamond, 
almost crying now. 

“Yes, I do. Only I can’t show it. All my love is 
down at the bottom of my heart. But I feel it bub¬ 
bling there. ’ ’ 

“What do you want me to do next, dear North 
Wind?” said Diamond, wishing to show his love by 
being obedient. 

“What do you want to do yourself?” 

“I want to go into the country at your back.” 

“Then you must go through me.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I mean just what I say. You must walk on as 
if I were an open door, and go right through me.” 

“But that will hurt you.” 

“'Not in the least. It will hurt you, though.” 

“I don’t mind that, if you tell me to do it.” 

“Do it,” said North Wind. 

Diamond walked towards her instantly. When he 
reached her knees, he put out his hand to lay it on 
her, but nothing was there save an intense cold. He 

98 


DIAMOND’S JOURNEY 


walked on. Then all grew white about him; and the 
cold stung him like fire. He walked on still, groping 
through the whiteness. It thickened about him. At 
last, it got into his heart, and he lost all sense. I 
would say that he fainted—only whereas in common 
faints all grows black about you, he felt swallowed 
up in whiteness. It was when he reached North 
Wind’s heart that he fainted and fell. But as he 
fell, he rolled over the threshold, and it was thus 
that Diamond got to the back of the north wind. 








X. 

AT THE BACK OF THE 
NORTH WIND 



HAVE now come to the most diffi¬ 
cult part of my story. And 
why? Because I do not know 
enough about it. And why 
should I not know as much about 
this part as about any other part? for of course I 
could know nothing about the story except Diamond 
had told it; and why should not Diamond tell about 
the country at the hack of the north wind, as well 
as about his adventures in getting there? Because, 
when he came hack, he had forgotten a great deal, 
and what he did remember was very hard to tell. 
Things there are so different from things here! The 
people there do not speak the same language for one 
thing. Indeed, Diamond insisted that there they do 
not speak at all. I do not think he was right, but it 
may well have appeared so to Diamond. The fact 
is, we have different reports of the place from the 
100 











AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


most trustworthy people. Therefore we are bound 
to believe that it appears somewhat different to dif¬ 
ferent people. All, however, agree in a general way 
about it. 

I will tell you something of what two very differ¬ 
ent people have reported, both of whom knew more 
about it, I believe, than Herodotus. One of them 
speaks from his own experience, for he visited the 
country; the other from the testimony of a young 
peasant girl who came back from it for a month’s 
visit to her friends. The former was a great Italian 
of noble family, who died more than five hundred 
years ago; the latter a Scotch shepherd who died 
not forty years ago. 

The Italian, then, informs us that he had to enter 
that country through a fire so hot that he would 
have thrown himself into boiling glass to cool him¬ 
self. This was not Diamond’s experience, but then 
Durante—that was the name of the Italian, and it 
means Lasting, for his books will last as long as 
there are enough men in the world worthy of having 
them—Durante was an elderly man, and Diamond 
was a little boy, and so their experience must be a 
little different. The peasant girl, on the other hand, 
fell fast asleep in a wood, and woke in the same 
country. 

In describing it, Durante says that the ground 
everywhere smelt sweetly, and that a gentle, even- 
tempered wind, which never blew faster or slower, 
breathed in his face as he went, making all the leaves 
point one way, not so as to disturb the birds in the 
tops of the trees, but, on the contrary, sounding a 
101 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


bass to their song. He describes also a little river 
which was so full that its little waves, as it hurried 
along, bent the grass, full of red and yellow flowers, 
through which it flowed. He says that the purest 
stream in the world beside this one would look as if 
it were mixed with something that did not belong to 
it, even although it was flowing ever in the brown 
shadow of the trees, and neither sun nor moon could 
shine upon it. He seems to imply that it is always 
the month of May in that country. It would be out 
of place to describe here the wonderful sights he 
saw, for the music of them is in another key from 
that of this story, and I shall therefore only add 
from the account of this traveller, that the people 
there are so free and so just and so healthy, that 
every one of them has a crown like a king and a 
mitre like a priest. 

The peasant girl—Kilmeny was her name—could 
not report such grand things as Durante, for, as the 
shepherd says, telling her story as I tell Diamond’s— 


“ Kilmeny had been she knew not where, 

And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare; 
Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, 
Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew; 
But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung, 
And the airs of heaven played round her tongue, 
When she spoke of the lovely forms she had seen, 
And a land where sin had never been; 

A land of love and a land of light, 

Withouten sun, or moon, or night; 

Where the river swayed a living stream, 

And the light a pure and cloudless beam: 

The land of vision it would seem, 

And still an everlasting dream.” 


102 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


The last two lines are the shepherd’s own remark, 
and a matter of opinion. But it is clear, I think, 
that Kilmeny must have described the same country 
as Durante saw, though, not having his experience, 
she could neither understand nor describe it so well. 

Now I must give you such fragments of recollec¬ 
tion as Diamond was able to bring back with him. 

When he came to himself after he fell, he found 
himself at the back of the north wind. North Wind 
herself was nowhere to be seen. Neither was there 
a vestige of snow or of ice within sight. The sun 
too had vanished; but that was no matter, for there 
was plenty of a certain still rayless light. Where 
it came from he never found out; but he thought it 
belonged to the country itself. Sometimes he 
thought it came out of the flowers, which were very 
bright, but had no strong colour. He said the river 
—for all agree that there is a river there—flowed 
not only through, but over grass: its channel, instead 
of being rock, stones, pebbles, sand, or anything 
else, was of pure meadow grass, not over long. He 
insisted that if it did not sing tunes in people’s ears, 
it sung tunes in their heads, in proof of which I 
may mention, that, in the troubles which followed, 
Diamond was often heard singing; and when asked 
what he was singing, would answer, “One of the 
tunes the river at the back of the north wind sung.” 
And I may as well say at once that Diamond never 
told these things to any one but—no, I had better 
not say who it was; but whoever it was told me, and 
T thought it would be well to write them for my 
child-readers. 


103 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


He could not say he was very happy there, for he 
had neither his father nor mother with him, but he 
felt so still and quiet and patient and contented, 
that, as far as the mere feeling went, it was some¬ 
thing better than mere happiness. Nothing went 
wrong at the back of the north wind. Neither was 
anything quite right, he thought. Only everything 
was going to be right some day. His account dis¬ 
agreed with that of Durante, and agreed with that 
of Kilmenv, in this, that he protested there was no 
wind there at all. I fancy he missed it. At all 
events ice could not do without wind. It all depends 
on how big our lungs are whether the wind is too 
strong for us or not. 

When the person he told about it asked him 
whether he saw anybody he knew there, he answered, 
“Only a little girl belonging to the gardener, who 
thought he had lost her, hut was quite mistaken, for 
there she was safe enough, and was to come back 
some day, as I came back, if they would only wait.’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Did you talk to her, Diamond ?’ 9 

“No. Nobody talks there. They only look at 
each other, and understand every thing . 9 9 

“Is it cold there V 9 

“No.” 

“Is it hot?” 

“No.” 

“What is it then?” 

“You never think about such things there.” 

“What a queer place it must be!” 

“It’s a very good place.” 

c 1 Do you want to go back again ?’ ’ 


104 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“No: I don , t think I have ever left it; I feel it 
here, somewhere.” 

“Did the people there look pleased?” 

“Yes—quite pleased, only a little sad.” 

‘ 1 Then they didn’t look glad ? ’ ’ 

“They looked as if they were waiting to be gladder 
some day.” 

This was how Diamond used to answer questions 
about that country. And now I will take up the 
story again, and tell you how he got back to this 
country. 








XI. 

HOW DIAMOND GOT 
HOME AGAIN 



W l HEN one at the bach of the north 
j wind wanted to know how things 
were going with any one he 
loved, he had to go to a certain 
tree, climb the stem, and sit 
down in the branches. In a few minutes, if he kept 
very still, he would see something at least of what 
was going on with the people he loved. 

One day when Diamond was sitting in this tree, 
he began to long very much to get home again, and 
no wonder, for he saw his mother crying. Durante 
says that the people there may always follow their 
wishes, because they never wish but what is good. 
Diamond’s wish was to get home, and he would fain 
follow his wish. 

But how was he to set about it? If he could only 
see North Wind! But the moment he had got to 
her back, she was gone altogether from his sight. 
He had never seen her back. She might be sitting 
106 














HOW DIAMOND GOT HOME AGAIN 


on her doorstep still, looking southwards, and wait¬ 
ing, white and thin and blue-eyed, until she was 
wanted. Or she might have again become a mighty 
creature, with power to do that which was demanded 
of her, and gone far away upon many missions. She 
must be somewhere, however. He could not go home 
without her, and therefore he must find her. She 
could never have intended to leave him always away 
from his mother. If there had been any danger of 
that, she would have told him, and given him his 
choice about going. For North Wind was right 
honest. How to find North Wind, therefore, occu¬ 
pied all his thoughts. 

In his anxiety about his mother, he used to climb 
the tree every day, and sit in its branches. However 
many of the dwellers there did so, they never incom¬ 
moded one another; for the moment one got into the 
tree, he became invisible to every one else; and it 
was such a wide-spreading tree that there was room 
for every one of the people of the country in it, with¬ 
out the least interference with each other. Some¬ 
times, on getting down, two of them would meet at 
the root, and then they would smile to each other 
more sweetly than at any other time, as much as to 
say, “Ah, you’ve been up there too!” 

One day he was sitting on one of the outer 
branches of the tree, looking southwards after his 
home. Far away was a blue shining sea, dotted with 
gleaming and sparkling specks of white. Those 
were the icebergs. Nearer he saw a great range of 
snow-capped mountains, and down below him the 
lovely meadow-grass of the country, with the stream 
107 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


flowing and flowing through it, away towards the 
sea. As he looked he began to wonder, for the whole 
country lay beneath him like a map, and that which 
was near him looked just as small as that which he 
knew to be miles away. The ridge of ice which en¬ 
circled it appeared but a few yards off, and no 
larger than the row of pebbles with which a child will 
mark out the boundaries of the kingdom he has 
appropriated on the sea-shore. He thought he could 
distinguish the vapoury form of North Wind, seated 
as he had left her, on the other side. Hastily he 
descended the tree, and to his amazement found that 
the map or model of the country still lay at his feet. 
He stood in it. With one stride he had crossed the 
river; with another he had reached the ridge of ice; 
with the third he stepped over its peaks, and sank 
wearily down at North Wind’s knees. For there she 
sat on her doorstep. The peaks of the great ridge 
of ice were as lofty as ever behind her, and the coun¬ 
try at her back had vanished from Diamond’s view. 

North Wind was as still as Diamond had left her. 
Her pale face was white as the snow, and her motion¬ 
less eyes were as blue as the caverns in the ice. But 
the instant Diamond touched her, her face began to 
change like that of one waking from sleep. Light 
began to glimmer from the blue of her eyes. A mo¬ 
ment more, and she laid her hand on Diamond’s 
head, and began playing with his hair. Diamond 
took hold of her hand, and laid his face to it. She 
gave a little start. 

“How very alive you are, child!” she murmured. 
“Come nearer to me.” 

By the help of the stones all around he clambered 


108 


HOW DIAMOND GOT HOME AGAIN 


up beside her, and laid himself against her bosom. 
She gave a great sigh, slowly lifted her arms, and 
slowly folded them about him, until she clasped him 
close. Yet a moment, and she roused herself, and 
came quite awake; and the cold of her bosom, which 
had pierced Diamond’s bones, vanished. 

‘ 1 Have you been sitting here ever since I went 
through you, dear North Wind?” asked Diamond, 
stroking her hand. 

“Yes,” she answered, looking at him with her old 
kindness. 

“Ain’t.you very tired?” 

“No; I’ve often had to sit longer. Do you know 
how long you have been ? ’ ’ 

“Oh! years and years,” answered Diamond. 

“You have just been seven days,” returned North 
Wind. 

“I thought I had been a hundred years!” ex¬ 
claimed Diamond. 

“Yes, I daresay,” replied North Wind. “You’ve 
been away from here seven days; but how long you 
may have been in there is quite another thing. Be¬ 
hind my back and before my face things are so dif¬ 
ferent ! They don’t go at all by the same rule.” 

“I’m very glad,” said Diamond, after thinking 
a while. 

“Why?” asked North Wind. 

“Because I’ve been such a long time there, and 
such a little while away from mother. Why, she 
woii’t be expecting me home from Sandwich yet!” 

“No. But we mustn’t talk any longer. I’ve got 
my orders now, and we must be off in a few 
minutes. ’ ’ 


109 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Next moment Diamond found himself sitting alone 
on the rock. North Wind had vanished. A crea¬ 
ture like a great humble-bee or cockchafer flew past 
his face; hut it could be neither, for there were no 
insects amongst the ice. It passed him again and 
again, flying in circles around him, and he concluded 
that it must be North Wind herself, no bigger than 
Tom Thumb when his mother put him in the nutshell 
lined with flannel. But she was no longer vapoury 
and thin. She was solid, although tiny. A moment 
more, and she perched on his shoulder. 

“Come along, Diamond,’’ she said in his ear, in 
the smallest and highest of treble voices; “it is time 
we were setting out for Sandwich.” 

Diamond could just see her, by turning his head 
towards his shoulder as far as he could, but only 
with one eye, for his nose came between her and the 
other. 

“Won’t you take me in your arms and carry me?” 
he said in a whisper, for he knew she did not like a 
loud voice when she was small. 

“Ah! you ungrateful boy,” returned North Wind, 
smiling, “how dare you make game of me? Yes, I 
will carry you, but you shall walk a bit for your im¬ 
pertinence first. Come along.” 

She jumped from his shoulder, but when Diamond 
looked for her upon the ground, he could see nothing 
but a little spider with long legs that made its way 
over the ice towards the south. It ran very fast 
indeed for a spider, but Diamond ran a long way 
before it, and then waited for it. It was up with him 
sooner than he had expected, however, and it had 
no 


HOW DIAMOND GOT HOME AGAIN 


grown a good deal. And the spider grew and grew 
and went faster and faster, till all at once Diamond 
discovered that it was not a spider, but a weasel; 
and away glided the weasel, and away went Diamond 
after it, and it took all the run there was in him to 
keep up with the weasel. And the weasel grew, and 
grew, and grew, till all at once Diamond saw that the 
weasel was not a weasel but a cat. And away went 
the cat, and Diamond after it. And when he had run 
half a mile, he found the cat waiting for him, sitting 
up and washing her face not to lose time. And away 
went the cat again, and Diamond after it. But the 
next time he came up with the cat, the cat was not a 
cat, hut a hunting-leopard. And the hunting- 
leopard grew to a jaguar, all covered with spots like 
eyes. And the jaguar grew to a Bengal tiger. And 
at none of them was Diamond afraid, for he had been 
at North Wind’s back, and he could be afraid of her 
no longer whatever she did or grew. And the tiger 
flew over the snow in a straight line for the south, 
growing less and less to Diamond’s eyes till it was 
only a black speck upon the whiteness; and then it 
vanished altogether. And now Diamond felt that 
he would rather not run any farther, and that the ice 
had got very rough. Besides, he was near the preci¬ 
pices that bounded the sea, so he slackened his pace 
to a walk, saying aloud to himself: 

“When North Wind has punished me enough for 
making game of her, she will come back to me; I 
know she will, for I can’t go much farther without 
her.” 

“You dear hoy! It was only in fun. Here I 
am!” said North Wind’s voice behind him. 

in 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

Diamond turned, and saw her as he liked best to 
see her, standing beside him, a tall lady. 

“Where’s the tiger?” he asked, for he knew all the 
creatures from a picture book that Miss Coleman had 
given him. “But, of course,’’ he added, “you were 
the tiger. I was puzzled and forgot. I saw it such 
a long way off before me, and there you were behind 
me. It’s so odd, you know.” 

“It must look very odd to you, Diamond: I see 
that. But it is no more odd to me than to break an 
old pine in two.” 

“Well, that’s odd enough,” remarked Diamond. 

“So it is! I forgot. Well, none of these things 
are odder to me than it is to you to eat bread and 
butter. ’ ’ 

“Well, that’s odd too, when I think of it,” per¬ 
sisted Diamond. “I should just like a slice of bread 
and butter! I’m afraid to say how long it is—how 
long it seems to me, that is—since I had anything 
to eat.” 

“Come then,” said North Wind, stooping and 
holding out her arms. “You shall have some bread 
and butter very soon. I am glad to find you want 
some.” 

Diamond held up his arms to meet hers, and was 
safe upon her bosom. North Wind bounded into the 
air. Her tresses began to lift and rise and spread 
and stream and flow and flutter; and with a roar 
from her hair and an answering roar from one of the 
great glaciers beside them, whose slow torrent 
tumbled two or three icebergs at once into the waves 
at their feet, North Wind and Diamond went flying 
southwards. 


112 


XII. 

WHO MET DIAMOND AT 
SANDWICH 



they flew, so fast they went that 
the sea slid away from under 
them like a great web of shot 
silk, blue shot with gray, and 
green shot with purple. They 
went so fast that the stars themselves appeared to 
sail away past them overhead, “like golden boats,’’ 
on a blue sea turned upside down. And they went 
so fast that Diamond himself went the other way as 
fast—I mean he went fast asleep in North Wind’s 
arms. 

When he woke, a face was bending over him; but 
it was not North Wind’s; it was his mother’s. He 
put out his arms to her, and she clasped him to her 
bosom and burst out crying. Diamond kissed her 
again and again to make her stop. Perhaps kissing 
is the best thing for crying, but it will not always 
stop it. 

“What is the matter, mother!” he said. 


8 


113 












AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


‘ 4 Oh, Diamond, my darling! yon have been so ill! ’ ’ 
she sobbed. 

“No, mother dear. I’ve only been at the back of 
the north wind,” returned Diamond. 

‘ ‘ I thought you were dead,’ ’ said his mother. 

But that moment the doctor came in. 

“Oh! there!” said the doctor with gentle cheerful¬ 
ness; “we’re better to-day, I see.” 

Then he drew the mother aside, and told her not to 
talk to Diamond, or to mind what he might say; for 
he must be kept as quiet as possible. And indeed 
Diamond was not much inclined to talk, for he felt 
very strange and weak, which was little wonder, see¬ 
ing that all the time he had been away he had only 
sucked a few lumps of ice, and there could not be 
much nourishment in them. 

Now while he is lying there, getting strong again 
with chicken broth and other nice things, I will tell 
my readers what had been taking place at his home, 
for they ought to be told it. 

They may have forgotten that Miss Coleman was 
in a very poor state of health. Now there were three 
reasons for this. In the first place, her lungs were 
not strong. In the second place, there was a gentle¬ 
man somewhere who had not behaved very well to 
her. In the third place, she had not anything par¬ 
ticular to do. These three nots together are enough 
to make a lady very ill indeed. Of course she could 
not help the first cause; but if the other two causes 
had not existed, that would have been of little conse¬ 
quence ; she would only have had to be a little careful. 
The second she could not help quite; but if she had 
in 


WHO MET DIAMOND AT SANDWICH 


had anything to do, and had done it well, it would 
have been very difficult for any man to behave badly 
to her. And for this third cause of her illness, if 
she had had anything to do that was worth doing, 
she might have borne his bad behaviour so that even 
that would not have made her ill. It is not always 
easy, I confess, to find something to do that is worth 
doing, but the most difficult tilings are constantly 
being done, and she might have found something if 
she had tried. Pier fault lay in this, that she had 
not tried. But, to be sure, her father and mother 
were to blame that they had never set her going. 
Only then again, nobody had told her father and 
mother that they ought to set her going in that direc¬ 
tion. So as none of them would find it out of them¬ 
selves, North Wind had to teach them. 

We know that North Wind was very busy that 
night on which she left Diamond in the cathedral. She 
had in a sense been blowing through and through the 
Colemans’ house the whole of the night. First, Miss 
Coleman’s maid had left a chink of her mistress’s 
window open, thinking she had shut it, and North 
Wind had wound a few of her hairs round the lady’s 
throat. She was considerably worse the next morn¬ 
ing. Again, the ship which North Wind had sunk 
that very night belonged to Mr. Coleman. Nor will 
my readers understand what a heavy loss this was 
to him until I have informed them that he had been 
getting poorer and poorer for some time. He was 
not so successful in his speculations as he had been, 
for he speculated a great deal more than was right, 
and it was time he should be pulled up. It is a hard 
thing for a rich man to grow poor; but it is an awful 

115 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


tiling for him to grow dishonest, and some kinds of 
speculation lead a man deep into dishonesty before 
he thinks what he is about. Poverty will not make 
a man worthless—he may be worth a great deal more 
when he is poor than he was when he was rich; but 
dishonesty goes very far indeed to make a man of no 
value—a thing to be thrown out in the dust-hole of 
the creation, like a bit of a broken basin, or a dirty 
rag. So North Wind had to look after Mr. Coleman, 
and try to make an honest man of him. So she sank 
the ship which was his last venture, and he was what 
himself and his wife and the world called ruined. 

Nor was this all yet. For on board that vessel 
Miss Coleman’s lover was a passenger; and when the 
news came that the vessel had gone down, and that 
all on board had perished, we may be sure she did 
not think the loss of their fine house and garden and 
furniture the greatest misfortune in the world. 

Of course, the trouble did not end with Mr. Cole¬ 
man and his family. Nobody can suffer alone. 
When the cause of suffering is most deeply hidden 
in the heart, and nobody knows anything about it 
but the man himself, he must be a great and a good 
man indeed, such as few of us have known, if the 
pain inside him does not make him behave so as to 
cause all about him to be more or less uncomfortable. 
But when a man brings money-troubles on himself 
by making haste to be rich, then most of the people 
he has to do with must suffer in the same way with 
himself. The elm-tree which North Wind blew down 
that very night, as if small and great trials were 
to be gathered in one heap, crushed Miss Coleman’s 
pretty summer-house: just so the fall of Mr. Coleman 


116 


WHO MET DIAMOND AT SANDWICH 


crushed the little family that lived over his coach¬ 
house and stable. Before Diamond was well enough 
to be taken home, there was no home for him to go to. 
Mr. Coleman—or his creditors, for I do not know the 
particulars—had sold house, carriage, horses, furni¬ 
ture, and everything. He and his wife and daughter 
and Mrs. Crump had gone to live in a small house in 
Hoxton, where he would be unknown, and whence he 
could walk to his place of business in the City. For 
he was not an old man, and hoped yet to retrieve his 
fortunes. Let us hope that he lived to retrieve his 
honesty, the tail of which had slipped through his 
fingers to the very last joint, if not beyond it. 

Of course, Diamond’s father had nothing to do for 
a time, but it was not so hard for him to have nothing 
to do as it was for Miss Coleman. He wrote to his 
wife that, if her sister would keep her there till he 
got a place, it would be better for them, and he would 
be greatly obliged to her. Meantime, the gentleman 
who had bought the house had allowed his furniture 
to remain where it was for a little w r hile. 

Diamond’s aunt was quite willing to keep them as 
long as she could. And indeed Diamond was not yet 
well enough to be moved with safety. 

When he had recovered so far as to be able to go 
out, one day his mother got her sister’s husband, 
who had a little pony-cart, to carry them down to 
the sea-shore, and leave them there for a few hours. 
He had some business to do further on at Ramsgate, 
and would pick them up as he returned. A whiff of 
the sea-air would do them both good, she said, and 
she thought besides she could best tell Diamond 
what had happened if she had him quite to herself. 

117 


XIII. 

THE SEASIDE 



IAMOND and liis mother sat 
down upon the edge of the rough 
grass that bordered the sand. 
The sun was just far enough 
past its highest not to shine in 
their eyes when they looked eastward. A sweet little 
wind blew on their left side, and comforted the 
mother without letting her know what it was that 
comforted her. Away before them stretched the 
sparkling waters of the ocean, every wave of which 
flashed out its own delight back in the face of the 
great sun, which looked down from the stillness of 
its blue house with gloriously silent face upon its 
flashing children. On each hand the shore rounded 
outwards, forming a little bay. There were no white 
cliffs here, as further north and south, and the place 
was rather dreary, but the sky got at them so much 
the better. Not a house, not a creature was within 
sight. Dry sand was about their feet, and under 
them thin wiry grass, that just managed to grow out 
of the poverty-stricken shore. 

118 










THE SEASIDE 


“Oh dear!” said Diamond’s mother, with a deep 
sigh, “it’s a sad world!’’ 

“ Is it ! ’ ’ said Diamond; “ I didn’t know. ’ ’ 

“How should you know, child! You’ve been too 
well taken care of, I trust.” 

“Oh yes, I have,” returned Diamond. “I’m 
sorry! I thought you were taken care of too. I 
thought my father took care of you. I will ask him 
about it. I think he must have forgotten. ’ ’ 

“Dear boy!” said his mother; “your father’s the 
best man in the world. ’ ’ 

“Sol thought! ’ ’ returned Diamond with triumph. 
“I was sure of it!—-Well, doesn’t he take very good 
care of you!” 

“Yes, yes, he does,” answered his mother, burst¬ 
ing into tears. “But who’s to take care of him! 
And how is he to take care of us if he’s got nothing 
to eat himself!” 

“Oh dear!” said Diamond with a gasp; “hasn’t 
he got anything to eat! Oh! I must go home to 
him. ’ ’ 

“No, no, child. He’s not come to that yet. But 
what’s to become of us, I don’t know.” 

“Are you very hungry, mother! There’s the 
basket. I thought you put something to eat in it.” 

“0 you darling stupid! I didn’t say I was hun¬ 
gry,” returned his mother, smiling through her 
tears. 

“Then I don’t understand you at all,” said Dia¬ 
mond. “Do tell me what’s the matter.” 

“There are people in the world who have nothing 
to eat, Diamond.” 


119 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“Then I suppose they don’t stop in it any longer. 
They—they—what yon call—die—don’t they?” 

“Yes, they do. How would yon like that?” 

“I don’t know. I never tried. But I suppose 
they go where they get something to eat. ’ ’ 

“Like enough they don’t want it,” said his mother, 
petulantly. 

“That’s all right then,” said Diamond, thinking 
I daresay more than he chose to put in words. 

“Is it though? Poor hoy! how little you know 
about things! Mr. Coleman’s lost all his money, 
and your father has nothing to do, and we shall have 
nothing to eat by and by.” 

“Are you sure, mother?” 

“Sure of what?” 

‘ ‘ Sure that we shall have nothing to eat. ’ ’ 

“No, thank Heaven! I’m not sure of it. I hope 
not.” 

“Then I can’t understand it, mother. There’s a 
piece of gingerbread in the basket, I know. ’ ’ 

“0 you little bird! You have no more sense than 
a sparrow that picks what it wants, and never thinks 
of the winter and the frost and the snow.” 

“Ah—yes—I see. But the birds get through the 
winter, don’t they?” 

‘ ‘ Some of them fall dead on the ground. ’ ’ 

“They must die some time. They wouldn’t like 
to be birds always. Would you, mother?” 

“What a child it is!” thought his mother, but she 
said nothing. 

“Oh! now I remember,” Diamond went on. 
“Father told me that day I went to Epping Forest 
with him, that the rose-bushes, and the may-bushes, 
120 


THE SEASIDE 


and the holly-hushes were the bird’s barns, for there 
were the hips, and the haws, and the holly-berries, 
all ready for the winter.’’ 

‘ ‘Yes; that’s all very true. So you see the birds 
are provided for. But there are no such barns for 
you and me, Diamond.” 

“Ain’t there?” 

“No. We’ve got to work for our bread.” 

“Then let’s go and work,” said Diamond, getting 

up. 

“It’s no use. We’ve not got anything to do.” 

“Then let’s wait.” 

“Then we shall starve.” 

“No. There’s the basket. Do you know, mother, 
I think I shall call that basket the barn.” 

“It’s not a very big one. And when it’s empty— 
where are we then?” 

“At Auntie’s cupboard,” returned Diamond 
promptly. 

“But we can’t eat auntie’s things all up and leave 
her to starve. ’ ’ 

“No, no. We’ll go back to father before that. 
He’ll have found a cupboard somewhere by that 
time. ’ ’ 

“How do you know that?” 

‘ ‘ I don’t know it. But I haven’t got even a cup¬ 
board, and I’ve always had plenty to eat. I’ve 
heard you say I had too much, sometimes.” 

“But I tell you that’s because I’ve had a cupboard 
for you, child.” 

“And when yours was empty, auntie opened 
hers.” 

“But that can’t go on.” 


121 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“How do you know? I think there must be a big 
cupboard somewhere, out of which the little cup¬ 
boards are filled, you know, mother. ’ ’ 

“Well, I wish I could find the door of that cup¬ 
board, ’’ said his mother. But the same moment she 
stopped, and was silent for a good while. I cannot 
tell whether Diamond knew what she was thinking, 
but I think I know. She had heard something at 
church the day before, which came back upon her— 
something like this, that she hadn’t to eat for to¬ 
morrow as well as for to-day; and that what was not 
wanted couldn’t be missed. So, instead of saying 
anything more, she stretched out her hand for the 
basket, and she and Diamond had their dinner. 

And Diamond did enjoy it. For the drive and the 
fresh air had made him quite hungry; and he did 
not, like his mother, trouble himself about what they 
should dine off that day week. The fact was he had 
lived so long without any food at all at the back of 
the north wind, that he knew quite well that food 
was not essential to existence; that in fact, under 
certain circumstances, people could live without it 
well enough. 

His mother did not speak much during their din¬ 
ner. After it was over she helped him to walk about 
a little, but he was not able for much and soon got 
tired. He did not get fretful, though. He was too 
glad of having the sun and the wind again, to fret 
because he could not run about. He lay down on 
the dry sand, and his mother covered him with a 
shawl. She then sat by his side, and took a bit of 
work from her pocket. But Diamond felt rather 


122 


THE SEASIDE 


sleepy, and turned on his side and gazed sleepily 
over the sand. A few yards off he saw something 
fluttering. 

44 What is that, motherf” he said. 

44 Only a bit of paper, ’ ’ she answered. 

4 4 It flutters more than a bit of paper would, I 
think,” said Diamond. 

44 IT1 go and see if you like,” said his mother. 
44 My eyes are none of the best.” 

So she rose and went and found that they were 
both right, for it was a little book, partly buried in 
the sand. But several of its leaves were clear of the 
sand, and these the wind kept blowing about in a 
very flutterful manner. She took it up and brought 
it to Diamond. 

44 What is it, mother?” he asked. 

44 Some nursery rhymes, I think,” she answered. 

4 4 1’m too sleepy, ’’ said Diamond. 4 4 Do read some 
of them to me.” 

44 Yes, I will,” she said, and began one.— 44 But this 
is such nonsense!” she said again. 44 I will try to 
find a better one.” 

She turned the leaves searching, but three times, 
with sudden puffs, the wind blew the leaves rustling 
back to the same verses. 

44 Do read that one,” said Diamond, who seemed 
to be of the same mind as the wind. 4 4 It sounded 
very nice. I am sure it is a good one.” 

So his mother thought it might amuse him, though 
she couldn’t find any sense in it. She never thought 
he might understand it, although she could not. 

Now I do not exactly know what the mother read, 
123 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


but this is what Diamond beard, or thought 
afterwards that he had heard. He was, however, 
as I have said, very sleepy, and when he thought he 
understood the verses he may have been only dream¬ 
ing better ones. This is how they went— 


I know a river 

whose waters run asleep 

run run ever 

singing in the shallows 

dumb in the hollows 

sleeping so deep 

and all the swallows 

that dip their feathers 

in the hollows 

or in the shallows 

are the merriest swallows of all 

for the nests they bake 

with the clay they cake 

with the water they shake 

from their wings that rake 

the water out of the shallows 

or the hollows 

will hold together 

in any weather 

and so the swallows 

are the merriest fellows 

and have the merriest children 

and are built so narrow 

like the head of an arrow 

to cut the air 

and go just where 

the nicest water is flowing 

and the nicest dust is blowing 

for each so narrow 

like head of an arrow 

is only a barrow 

to carry the mud he makes 

from the nicest water flowing 

and the nicest dust that is blowing 

to build his nest 


124 


THE SEASIDE 


for her he loves best 
with the nicest cakes 
which the sunshine bakes 
all for their merry children 
all so callow 
with beaks that follow 
gaping and hollow 
wider and wider 
after their father 
or after their mother 
the food-provider 
who brings them a spider 
or a worm the poor hider 
down in the earth 
so there’s no dearth 
for their beaks as yellow 
as the buttercups growing 
beside the flowing 
of the singing river 
always and ever 
growing and blowing 
for fast as the sheep 
awake or asleep 
crop them and crop them 
they cannot stop them 
but up they creep 
and on they go blowing 
and so with the daisies 
the little white praises 
they grow and they blow 
and they spread out their crown 
and they praise the sun 
and when he goes down 
their praising is done 
and they fold up their crown 
and they sleep every one 
till over the plain 
he’s shining amain 
and they ’re at it again 
praising and praising 
such low songs raising 
that no one hears them 
but the sun who rears them 
125 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


and the sheep that bite them 

are the quietest sheep 

awake or asleep 

with the merriest bleat 

and the little lambs 

are the merriest lambs 

they forget to eat 

for the frolic in their feet 

and the lambs and their dams 

are the whitest sheep 

with the woolliest wool 

and the longest wool 

and the trailingest tails 

and they shine like snow 

in the grasses that grow 

by the singing river 

that sings for ever 

and the sheep and the lambs 

are merry for ever 

because the river 

sings and they drink it 

and the lambs and their dams 

are quiet 

and white 

because of their diet 
for what they bite 
is buttercups yellow 
and daisies white 
and grass as green 
as the river can make it 
with wind as mellow 
to kiss it and shake it 
as never was seen 
but here in the hollows 
beside the river 
where all the swallows 
are merriest of fellows 
for the nests they make 
with the clay they cake 
in the sunshine bake 
till they are like bone 
as dry in the wind 
as a marble stone 
126 


THE SEASIDE 


so firm they bind 
the grass in the clay 
that dries in the wind 
tne sweetest wind 
that blows by the river 
flowing for ever 
but never you find 
whence comes the wind 
that blows on the hollows 
and over the shallows 
where dip the swallows 
alive it blows 
the life as it goes 
awake or asleep 
into the river 
that sings as it flows 
and the life it blows 
into the sheep 
awake or asleep 
with the woolliest wool 
and the trailingest tails 
and it never fails 
gentle and cool 
to wave the w t oo 1 
and to toss the grass 
as the lambs and the sheep 
over it pass 
and tug and bite 
with their teeth so white 
and then with the sweep 
of their trailing tails 
smooth it again 
and it grows amain 
and amain it grows 
and the wind as it blows 
tosses the swallows 
over the hollows 
and down on the shallows 
till every feather 
doth shake and quiver 
and all their feathers 
go all together 
blowing the life 
127 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


and the joy so rife 
into the swallows 
that skim the shallows 
and have the yellowest children 
for the wind that blows 
is the life of the river 
flowing for ever 
that washes the grasses 
still as it passes 
and feeds the daisies 
the little white praises 
and buttercups bonny 
so golden and sunny 
with butter and honey 
that whiten the sheep 
awake or asleep 
that nibble and bite 
and grow whiter than white 
and merry and quiet 
on the sweet diet 
fed by the river 
and tossed for ever 
by the wind that tosses 
the swallow that crosses 
over the shallows 
dipping his wings 
to gather the water 
and bake the cake 
that the wind shall make 
as hard as a bone 
as dry as a stone 
it’s all in the wind 
that blows from behind 
and all in the river 
that flows for ever 
and all in the grasses 
and the white daisies 
and the merry sheep 
awake or asleep 
and the happy swallows 
skimming the shallows 
and it’s all in the wind 
that blows from behind 
128 


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SC) 


DIAMOND SAT DOWN AGAIN, TOOK THE BABY IN HIS LAP 












DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING 

When liis father had finished his breakfast, which 
he did rather in a hurry, he got up and went down 
into the yard to get out his horse and put him to 
the cab. 

“ Won’t you come and see the cab, Diamond?” he 
said. 

“Yes, please, father—if mother can spare me a 
minute,” answered Diamond. 

“Bless the child! I don’t want him,” said his 
mother cheerfully. 

But as he was following his father out of the door, 
she called him back. 

‘ ‘ Diamond, just hold the baby one minute. I have 
something to say to your father.” 

So Diamond sat down again, took the baby in his 
lap, and began poking his face into its little body, 
laughing and singing all the while, so that the baby 
crowed like a little bantam. And what he sang was 
something like this—such nonsense to those that 
couldn’t understand it! but not to the baby, who 
got all the good in the world out of it:— 


baby’s a-sleeping 

wake up baby 

for all the swallows 

are the merriest fellows 

and have the yellowest children 

who would go sleeping 

and snore like a gaby 

disturbing his mother 

and father and brother 

and all a-boring 

their ears with his snoring 

snoring snoring 

for himself and no other 


141 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


for himself in particular 
wake up baby¬ 
sit up perpendicular 
hark to the gushing 
hark to the rushing 
where the sheep are the woolliest 
and the lambs the unruliest 
and their tails the whitest 
and their eyes the brightest 
and baby’s the bonniest 
and baby’s the funniest 
and baby’s the shiniest 
and baby’s the tiniest 
and baby’s the merriest 
and baby’s the worriest 
of all the lambs 
that plague their dams 
and mother’s the whitest 
of all the dams 
that feed the lambs 
that go crop-cropping 
without stop-stopping 
and father’s the best 
of all the swallows 
that build their nest 
out of the shining shallows 
and he has the merriest children 
that’s baby and Diamond 
and Diamond and baby 
and baby and Diamond 
and Diamond and baby 


Here Diamond’s knees went oft in a wild dance 
which tossed the baby about and shook the laughter 
out of him in immoderate peals. His mother had 
been listening at the door to the last few lines of his 
song, and came in with the tears in her eyes. She 
took the baby from him, gave him a kiss, and told 
him to run to his father. 


142 


DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING 


By the time Diamond got into the yard, the horse 
was between the shafts, and his father was looping 
the traces on. Diamond went round to look at the 
horse. The sight of him made him feel very queer. 
He did not know much about different horses, and 
all other horses than their own were very much the 
same to him. But he could not make it out. This 
was Diamond and it wasn’t Diamond. Diamond 
didn’t hang his head like that; yet the head that was 
hanging was very like the one that Diamond used 
to hold so high. Diamond’s bones didn’t show 
through his skin like that; but the skin they pushed 
out of shape so was very like Diamond’s skin; and 
the bones might be Diamond’s bones, for he had 
never seen the shape of them. But when he came 
round in front of the old horse, and he put out his 
long neck, and began sniffing at him and rubbing his 
upper lip and his nose on him, then Diamond saw it 
could be no other than old Diamond, and he did just 
as his father had done before—put his arms round 
his neck and cried—but not much. 

“Ain’t it jolly, father!” he said. “Was there 
ever anybody so lucky as me! Dear old Diamond!” 

And he hugged the horse again, and kissed both 
his big hairy cheeks. He could only manage one at 
a time however—the other cheek was so far off on 
the other side of his big head. 

His father mounted the box with just the same air, 
as Diamond thought, with which he had used to get 
upon the coach-box, and Diamond said to himself, 
“Father’s as grand as ever anyhow.” He had kept 
his brown livery-coat, only his wife had taken the 
143 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

silver buttons off and put brass ones instead, be¬ 
cause they did not think it polite to Mr. Coleman 
in his fallen fortunes to let his crest be seen upon 
the box of a cab. Old Diamond had kept just his 
collar; and that had the silver crest upon it still, for 
his master thought nobody would notice that, and so 
let it remain for a memorial of the better days of 
which it reminded him—not unpleasantly, seeing it 
had been by no fault either of his or of the horse’s 
that they had come down in the world together. 

i ‘ Oh, father, do let me drive a bit, ’’ said Diamond, 
jumping up on the box beside him. 

His father changed places with him at once, put¬ 
ting the reins into his hands. Diamond gathered 
them up eagerly. 

‘‘Don’t pull at his mouth,” said his father; “just 
feel at it gently to let him know you’re there and 
attending to him. That’s what I call talking to him 
through the reins.” 

‘ ‘ Yes, father, I understand, ’ ’ said Diamond. Then 
to the horse he said, “Go on, Diamond.” And old 
Diamond’s ponderous bulk began at once to move to 
the voice of the little boy. 

But before they had reached the entrance of the 
mews, another voice called after young Diamond, 
which, in his turn, he had to obey, for it was that of 
his mother. “Diamond! Diamond!” it cried; and 
Diamond pulled the reins, and the horse stood still 
as a stone. 

“Husband,” said his mother, coming up, “you’re 
never going to trust him with the reins—a baby like 
that?” 


144 


THE SEASIDE 


Here Diamond became aware that his mother had 
stopped reading. 

“ Why don’t yon go on, mother dear?” he asked. 

“It’s such nonsense!” said his mother. “I be 
lieve it would go on for ever.” 

“That’s just what it did,” said Diamond. 

“What did?” she asked. 

“Why, the river. That’s almost the very tune it 
used to sing.” 

His mother was frightened, for she thought the 
fever was coming on again. So she did not contra¬ 
dict him. 

“Who made that poem?” asked Diamond. 

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Some silly wo¬ 
man for her children, I suppose—and then thought 
it good enough to print.” 

‘ ‘ She must have been at the back of the north wind 
some time or other, anyhow,” said Diamond. “She 
couldn’t have got a hold of it anywhere else. That’s 
just how it went.” And he began to chant bits of 
it here and there; but his mother said nothing for 
fear of making him worse; and she was very glad 
indeed when she saw her brother-in-law jogging 
along in his little cart. They lifted Diamond in, 
and got up themselves, and away they went, “home 
again, home again, home again,” as Diamond sang. 
But he soon grew quiet, and before they reached 
Sandwich he was fast asleep and dreaming of the 
country at the back of the north wind. 


9 


XIV. 

OLD DIAMOND 



FTER this Diamond recovered so 
fast, that in a few days he was 
quite able to go home as soon as 
his father had a place for them 
to go. Now his father having 
saved a little money, and finding that no situation 
offered itself, had been thinking over a new plan. 
A strange occurrence it was which turned his 
thoughts in that direction. He had a friend in the 
Bloomsbury region, who lived by letting out cabs 
and horses to the cabmen. This man, happening to 
meet him one day as he was returning from an un¬ 
successful application, said to him: 

“Why don’t you set up for yourself now—in the 
cab line, I mean?” 

“I haven’t enough for that,” answered Dia¬ 
mond’s father. 

“You must have saved a goodish bit, I should 
think. Just come home with me now and look at a 
horse I can let you have cheap. I bought him only 

130 











OLD DIAMOND 


a few weeks ago, thinking he’d do for a Hansom, 
but I was wrong. He’s got bone enough for a 
waggon, but a waggon ain’t a Hansom. He ain’t 
got go enough for a Hansom. You see parties as 
takes Hansoms wants to go like the wind, and he 
ain’t got wind enough, for he ain’t so young as he 
once was. But for a four-wheeler as takes families 
and their luggages, he’s the very horse. He’d carry 
a small house any day. I bought him cheap, and I’ll 
sell him cheap.” 

“Oh, I don’t want him,” said Diamond’s father. 
“A body must have time to think over an affair of 
so much importance. And there’s the cab too. That 
would come to a deal of money.” 

‘ ‘ I could fit you there, I daresay, ’ ’ said his friend. 
“But come and look at the animal, anyhow.” 

“Since I lost my own old pair, as was Mr. Cole¬ 
man’s,” said Diamond’s father, turning to accom¬ 
pany the cab-master, “I ain’t almost got the heart 
to look a horse in the face. It’s a thousand pities 
to part man and horse.” 

“So it is,” returned his friend sympathetically. 

But what was the ex-coachman’s delight, when, on 
going into the stable where his friend led him, he 
found the horse he wanted him to buy was no other 
than his own old Diamond, grown very thin and bony 
and long-legged, as if they had been doing what 
they could to fit him for Hansom work! 

“He ain’t a Hansom horse,” said Diamond’s 
father indignantly. 

“Well, you’re right. He ain’t handsome, but he’s 
a good un,” said his owner. 

131 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“Who says he ain’t handsome? He’s one of the 
handsomest horses a gentleman’s coachman ever 
druv, ’ ’ said Diamond’s father; remarking to himself 
under his breath—“though I says it as shouldn’t”— 
for he did not feel inclined all at once to confess that 
his own old horse could have sunk so low. 

“Well,” said his friend, “all I say is—There’s a 
animal for you, as strong as a church; an’ll go like a 
train, leastways a parly,” he added, correcting 
himself. 

But the coachman had a lump in his throat and 
tears in his eyes. For the old horse, hearing his 
voice, had turned his long neck, and when his old 
friend went up to him and laid his hand on his side, 
he wiiinnied for joy, and laid his big head on his 
master’s breast. This settled the matter. The 
coachman’s arms were round the horse’s neck in a 
moment, and he fairly broke down and cried. The 
cab-master had never been so fond of a horse himself 
as to hug him like that, but he saw in a moment how 
it was. And he must have been a good-hearted fel¬ 
low, for I never heard of such an idea coming into 
the head of any other man with a horse to sell: in¬ 
stead of putting something on to the price because 
he was now pretty sure of selling him, he actually 
took a pound off what he had meant to ask for 
him, saying to himself it was a shame to part old 
friends. 

Diamond’s father, as soon as he came to himself, 
turned and asked how much he wanted for the horse. 

“I see you’re old friends,” said the owner. 

“It’s my own old Diamond. I liked him far the 

132 


OLD DIAMOND 


best of the pair, though the other was good. You 
ain’t got him too, have you?” 

“No; nothing in the stable to match him there.” 
“I believe you,” said the coachman. “But you’ll 
be wanting a long price for him, I know.” 

“No, not so much. I bought him cheap, and as I 
say, he ain’t for my work. ’ ’ 

The end of it was that Diamond’s father bought 
old Diamond again, along with a four-wheeled cab. 
And as there were some rooms to be had over the 
stable, he took them, wrote to his wife to come home, 
and set up as a cabman. 








XV. 

THE MEWS 



T was late in tlie afternoon when 
Diamond and his mother and the 
baby reached London. I was so 
full of Diamond that I forgot to 
tell you a baby had arrived in 
the meantime. His father was waiting for them 
with his own cab, but they had not told Diamond 
who the horse was; for his father wanted to enjoy 
the pleasure of his surprise when he found it out. 
He got in with his mother without looking at the 
horse, and his father having put up Diamond’s 
carpet-bag and his mother’s little trunk, got upon 
the box himself and drove off; and Diamond was 
quite proud of riding home in his father’s own car¬ 
riage. But when he got to the mews, he could not 
help being a little dismayed at first; and if he had 
never been to the back of the north wind, I am afraid 
he would have cried a little. But instead of that, he 
said to himself it was a fine thing all the old furni¬ 
ture was there. And instead of helping his mother 

134 






















THE MEWS 


to be miserable at tbe change, he began to find out 
all the advantages of the place; for every place has 
some advantages, and they are always better worth 
knowing than the disadvantages. Certainly the 
weather was depressing, for a thick dull persistent 
rain was falling by the time they reached home. 
But happily the weather is very changeable; and be¬ 
sides, there was a good fire burning in the room, 
which their neighbour with the drunken husband had 
attended to for them; and the tea-things were put 
out, and the kettle was boiling on the fire. And with 
a good fire, and tea and bread and butter, things 
cannot be said to be miserable. 

Diamond’s father and mother were, notwithstand¬ 
ing, rather miserable, and Diamond began to feel a 
kind of darkness beginning to spread over his own 
mind. But the same moment he said to himself, 
“This will never do. I can’t give in to this. I’ve 
been to the back of the north wind. Things go right 
there, and so I must try to get things to go right 
here. I’ve got to fight the miserable things. They 
shan’t make me miserable if I can help it.” I do 
not mean that he thought these very words. They 
are perhaps too grown-up for him to have thought, 
but they represent the kind of thing that was in his 
heart and his head. And when heart and head go 
together, nothing can stand before them. 

“What nice bread and butter this is!” said Dia¬ 
mond. 

“I’m glad you like it, my dear,” said his father. 
“I bought the butter myself at the little shop round 
the corner.” 


135 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“It’s very nice, thank you, father. Oh, there’s 
baby waking! I ’ll take him .’ 1 

“Sit still, Diamond,” said his mother. “Go on 
with your bread and butter. You’re not strong 
enough to lift him yet. ’ ’ 

So she took the baby herself, and set him on her 
knee. Then Diamond began to amuse him, and went 
on till the little fellow was shrieking with laughter. 
For the baby’s world was his mother’s arms; and the 
drizzling rain, and the dreary mews, and even his 
father’s troubled face could not touch him. What 
cared baby for the loss of a hundred situations? 
Yet neither father nor mother thought him hard¬ 
hearted because he crowed and laughed in the middle 
of their troubles. On the contrary, his crowing and 
laughing were infectious. His little heart was so 
full of merriment that it could not hold it all, and it 
ran over into theirs. Father and mother began to 
laugh too, and Diamond laughed till he had a fit 
of coughing which frightened his mother, and made 
them all stop. His father took the baby, and his 
mother put him to bed. 

But it was indeed a change to them all, not only 
from Sandwich, but from their old place. Instead 
of the great river where the huge barges with their 
mighty brown and yellow sails went tacking from 
side to side like little pleasure-skiffs, and where the 
long thin boats shot past with eight and sometimes 
twelve rowers, their windows now looked out upon a 
dirty paved yard. And there was no garden more 
for Diamond to run into when he pleased, with gay 
flowers about his feet, and solemn sun-filled trees 


136 


THE MEWS 


over his head. Neither was there a wooden wall at 
the back of his bed with a hole in it for North Wind 
to come in at when she liked. Indeed, there was such 
a high wall, and there were so many houses about 
the mews, that North Wind seldom got into the place 
at all, except when something must be done, and she 
had a grand cleaning out like other housewives; 
while the partition at the head of Diamond’s new 
bed only divided it from the room occupied by a 
cabman who drank too much beer, and came home 
chiefly to quarrel with his wife and pinch his chil¬ 
dren. It was dreadful to Diamond to hear the scold¬ 
ing and the crying. But it could not make him 
miserable, because he had been at the back of the 
north wind. 

If my reader find it hard to believe that Diamond 
should be so good, he must remember that he had 
been to the back of the north wind. If he never 
knew a boy so good, did he ever know a boy that 
had been to the back of the north wind? It was not 
in the least strange of Diamond to behave as he did; 
on the contrary, it was thoroughly sensible of him. 

We shall see how he got on. 



XYI. 

DIAMOND MAKES A 
BEGINNING 



JHE wind blew loud, but Diamond 
slept a deep sleep, and never 
beard it. My own impression is 
that every time when Diamond 
slept well and remembered noth¬ 
ing about it in the morning, he had been all that 
night at the back of the north wind. I am almost 
sure that was how he woke so refreshed, and felt so 
quiet and hopeful all the day. Indeed he said this 
much, though not to me.—that always when he woke 
from such a sleep there was a something in his mind, 
he could not tell what—could not tell whether it was 
the last far-off sounds of the river dying away in 
the distance, or some of the words of the endless 
song his mother had read to him on the seashore. 
Sometimes he thought it must have been the twitter¬ 
ing of the swallows—over the shallows, you know; 
but it may have been the chirping of the dingy spar¬ 
rows picking up their breakfast in the yard—how 

138 










DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING 


can I tell? I don’t know what I know, I only know 
what I think; and to tell the truth, I am more for 
the swallows than the sparrows. When he knew he 
was coming awake, he would sometimes try hard 
to keep hold of the words of what seemed a new 
song, one he had not heard before—a song in which 
the words and the music somehow appeared to be 
all one; but even when he thought he had got them 
well fixed in his mind, ever as he came awaker —as 
he would say—one line faded away out of it, and 
then another, and then another, till at last there was 
nothing left but some lovely picture of water or 
grass or daisies, or something else very common, but 
with all the commonness polished off it, and the 
lovely soul of it, which people so seldom see, and, 
alas! yet seldomer believe in, shining out. But after 
that he would sing the oddest, loveliest little songs 
to the baby—of his own making, his mother said; 
but Diamond said he did not make them; they were 
made somewhere inside him, and he knew nothing 
about them till they were coming out. 

When he woke that first morning he got up at once, 
saying to himself, “I’ve been ill long enough, and 
have given a great deal of trouble ; I must try and 
be of use now, and help my mother. ’ ’ When he went 
into her room he found her lighting the fire, and his 
father just getting out of bed. They had only the 
one room, besides the little one, not much more than 
a closet, in which Diamond slept. He began at once 
to set things to rights, but the baby waking up, he 
took him, and nursed him till his mother had got the 
breakfast ready. She was looking gloomy, and his 

139 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


father was silent; and indeed except Diamond had 
done all he possibly could to keep out the misery that 
was trying to get in at doors and windows, he too 
would have grown miserable, and then they would 
have been all miserable together. But to try to 
make others comfortable is the only way to get right 
comfortable ourselves, and that comes partly of not 
being able to think so much about ourselves when 
we are helping other people. For our Selves will 
always do pretty well if we don’t pay them too much 
attention. Our Selves are like some little children 
who will be happy enough so long as they are left 
to their own games, but when we begin to interfere 
with them, and make them presents of too nice play¬ 
things, or too many sweet things, they begin at once 
to fret and spoil. 

“Why, Diamond, child !” said his mother at last, 
“you’re as good to your mother as if you were a 
girl—nursing the baby, and toasting the bread, and 
sweeping up the hearth! I declare a body would 
think you had been among the fairies.” 

Could Diamond have had greater praise or greater 
pleasure? You see when he forgot his Self his 
mother took care of his Self, and loved and praised 
his Self. Our own praises poison our Selves, and 
puff and swell them up, till they lose all shape and 
beauty, and become like great toadstools. But the 
praises of father or mother do our Selves good, and 
comfort them and make them beautiful. They never 
do them any harm. If they do any harm, it comes 
of our mixing some of our own praises with them, 
and that turns them nasty and slimy and poisonous. 

140 


DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING 


“He must learn some day, and he can’t begin too 
soon. I see already he’s a horn coachman,” said his 
father proudly. “And I don’t see well how he could 
escape it, for my father and my grandfather, that’s 
his great-grandfather, was all coachmen, I’m told; 
so it must come natural to him, any one would think. 
Besides, you see, old Diamond’s as proud of him as 
we are our own selves, wife. Don’t you see how he’s 
turning round his ears, with the mouths of them 
open, for the first word he speaks to tumble in? 
He’s too well bred to turn his head, you know.” 

“Well, but, husband, I can’t do without him to¬ 
day. Everything’s got to be done, you know. It’s 
my first day here. And there’s that baby! ’ ’ 

“Bless you, wife! I never meant to take him 
away—only to the bottom of Endell Street. He can 
watch his way back. ’ ’ 

“No, thank you, father; not to-day,” said Dia¬ 
mond. “Mother wants me. Perhaps she’ll let me 
go another day.” 

“Very well, my man,” said his father, and took 
the reins which Diamond was holding out to him. 

Diamond got down, a little disappointed of course, 
and went in with his mother, who was too pleased to 
speak. She only took hold of his hand as tight as 
if she had been afraid of his running away instead 
of glad that he would not leave her. 

Now, although they did not know it, the owner of 
the stables, the same man who had sold the horse to 
his father, had been standing just inside one of the 
stable-doors, with his hands in his pockets, and had 
heard and seen all that passed; and from that day 


10 


145 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


John Stonecrop took a great fancy to the little boy. 
And this was the beginning of what came of it. 

That same evening, just as Diamond was feeling 
tired of the day’s work, and wishing his father would 
come home, Mr. Stonecrop knocked at the door. His 
mother went and opened it. 

“Good evening, ma’am,” said he. “Is the little 
master in?” 

“Yes, to be sure he is—at your service, I’m sure, 
Mr. Stonecrop,” said his mother. 

“No, no, ma’am; it’s I’m at his service. I’m just 
a-going out with my own cab, and if he likes to come 
with me, he shall drive my old horse till he’s tired.” 

“It’s getting rather late for him,” said his mother 
thoughtfully. “You see he’s been an invalid.” 

Diamond thought, what a funny thing! How could 
he have been an invalid when he did not even know 
what the word meant? But, of course, his mother 
was right. 

“Oh, well,” said Mr. Stonecrop, “I can just let 
him drive through Bloomsbury Square, and then he 
shall run home again.” 

“Very good, sir. And I’m much obliged to you,” 
said his mother. And Diamond, dancing with de¬ 
light, got his cap, put his hand in Mr. Stonecrop’s, 
and went with him to the yard where the cab was 
waiting. He did not think the horse looked nearly 
so nice as Diamond, nor Mr. Stonecrop nearly so 
grand as his father; but he was none the less pleased. 
He got up on the box, and his new friend got up 
beside him. 

“What’s the horse’s name?” whispered Diamond, 
as he took the reins from the man. 


146 


DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING 

“It’s not a nice name,” said Mr. Stonecrop. 
4 ‘Yon needn’t call him by it. I didn’t give it him. 
He’ll go well enough without it. Give the boy a 
whip, Jack. I never carries one when I drives 
old-” 

He didn’t finish the sentence. Jack handed Dia¬ 
mond a whip, with which, by holding it half down the 
stick, he managed just to flack the haunches of the 
horse; and away he went. 

“Mind the gate,” said Mr. Stonecrop; and Dia¬ 
mond did mind the gate, and guided the nameless 
horse through it in safety, pulling him this way and 
that according as was necessary. Diamond learned 
to drive all the sooner that he had been accustomed 
to do what he was told, and could obey the smallest 
hint in a moment. Nothing helps one to get on like 
that. Some people don’t know how to do what they 
are told; they have not been used to it, and they 
neither understand quickly nor are able to turn what 
they do understand into action quickly. With an 
obedient mind one learns the rights of things fast 
enough; for it is the law of the universe, and to 
obey is to understand. 

“Look out!” cried Mr. Stonecrop, as they were 
turning the corner into Bloomsbury Square. 

It was getting dusky now. A cab was approach¬ 
ing rather rapidly from the opposite direction, and 
Diamond pulling aside, and the other driver pulling 
up, they only just escaped a collision. Then they 
knew each other. 

“Why, Diamond, it’s a bad beginning to run into 
your own father,” cried the driver. 

“But, father, wouldn’t it have been a bad ending 
147 



AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


to run into your own son 1 ’ ’ said Diamond in return; 
and the two men laughed heartily. 

“This is very kind of you, I’m sure, Stonecrop,” 
said his father. 

“Not a hit. He’s a brave fellow, and’ll be fit to 
drive on his own hook in a week or two. But I think 
you’d better let him drive you home now, for his 
mother don’t like his having over much of the night 
air, and I promised not to take him farther than the 
square. ’ ’ 

“Come along then, Diamond,” said his father, as 
he brought his cab up to the other, and moved off the 
box to the seat beside it. Diamond jumped across, 
caught at the reins, said ‘ ‘ Good-night, and thank you, 
Mr. Stonecrop, ’ ’ and drove away home, feeling more 
of a man than he had ever yet had a chance of 
feeling in all his life. Nor did his father find it 
necessary to give him a single hint as to his driving. 
Only I suspect the fact that it was old Diamond, 
and old Diamond on his way to his stable, may have 
had something to do with young Diamond’s success. 

“Well, child,” said his mother, when he entered 
the room, “you’ve not been long gone.” 

“No, mother; here I am. Give me the baby.” 

“The baby’s asleep,” said his mother. 

“Then give him to me, and I’ll lay him down.” 

But as Diamond took him, he woke up and began 
to laugh. For he was indeed one of the merriest 
children. And no wonder, for he was as plump as 
a plum-pudding, and had never had an ache or a 
pain that lasted more than five minutes at a time. 
Diamond sat down with him and began to sing to 
him. 


148 


DIAMOND MAKES A BEGINNING 


baby baby babbing 

your father’s gone a-cabbing 

to catch a shilling for its pence 

to make the baby babbing dance 

for old Diamond’s a duck 

they say he can swim 

but the duck of diamonds 

is baby that’s him 

and of all the swallows 

the merriest fellows 

that bake their cake 

with the water they shake 

out of the river 

flowing for ever 

and make dust into clay 

on the shiniest day 

to build their nest 

father’s the best 

and mother’s the whitest 

and her eyes are the brightest 

of all the dams 

that watch their lambs 

cropping the grass 

where the waters pass 

singing for ever 

and of all the lambs 

with the shakingest tails 

and the jumpingest feet 

baby’s the funniest 

baby’s the bonniest 

and he never wails 

and he’s always sweet 

and Diamond’s his nurse 

and Diamond’s his nurse 

and Diamond’s his nurse 


When Diamond’s rhymes grew scarce, he always 
began dancing the baby. Some people wondered 
that such a child could rhyme as he did, hut his 
rhymes were not very good, for he was only trying 
to remember what he had heard the river sing at 
the back of the north wind. 


149 


XVII. 

DIAMOND GOES ON 



£ 5 *' . 

A® 

$Mi 


IAMOND became a great favour¬ 
ite with all the men about the 
mews. Some may think it was 
not the best place in the world 
for him to be brought up in; but 
it must have been, for there he was. At first, he 
heard a good many rough and bad words; but he did 
not like them, and so they did him little harm. He 
did not know in the least what they meant, but there 
was something in the very sound of them, and in the 
tone of voice in which they were said, which Dia¬ 
mond felt to be ugly. So they did not even stick to 
him, not to say get inside him. He never took any 
notice of them, and his face shone pure and good in 
the middle of them, like a primrose in a hailstorm. 
At first, because his face was so quiet and sweet, with 
a smile always either awake or asleep in his eyes, 
and because he never heeded their ugly words and 
rough jokes, they said he wasn’t all there, meaning 
that he was half an idiot, whereas he was a great 

150 












DIAMOND GOES ON 


deal more there than they had the sense to see. And 
before long the bad words found themselves ashamed 
to come out of the men’s mouths when Diamond was 
near. The one would nudge the other to remind him 
that the boy was within hearing, and the words 
choked themselves before they got any farther. 
When they talked to him nicely he had always a good 
answer, sometimes a smart one, ready, and that 
helped much to make them change their minds about 
him. 

One day Jack gave him a curry-comb and a brush 
to try his hand upon old Diamond’s coat. He used 
them so deftly, so gently, and yet so thoroughly, 
as far as he could reach, that the man could not 
help admiring him. 

“You must make haste and grow,” he said. “It 
won’t do to have a horse’s belly clean and his back 
dirty, you know.” 

‘ ‘ Give me a leg, ’ ’ said Diamond, and in a moment 
he was on the old horse’s back with the comb and 
brush. He sat on his withers, and reaching forward 
as he ate his hay, he curried and he brushed, first 
at one side of his neck, and then at the other. When 
that was done he asked for a dressing-comb, and 
combed his mane thoroughly. Then he pushed him¬ 
self on to his back, and did his shoulders as far down 
as he could reach. Then he sat on his croup, and did 
his back and sides; then he turned round like a 
monkey, and attacked his hind-quarters, and combed 
his tail. This last was not so easy to manage, for 
he had to lift it up, and every now and then old 
Diamond would whisk it out of his hands, and once 


151 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


he sent the comb flying out of the stable door, to 
the great amusement of the men. But Jack fetched 
it again, and Diamond began once more, and did not 
leave off till he had done the whole business fairly 
well, if not in a first-rate, experienced fashion. All 
the time the old horse went on eating his hay, and, 
but with an occasional whisk of his tail when Dia¬ 
mond tickled or scratched him, took no notice of 
the proceeding. But that was all a pretence, for he 
knew very well who it was that was perched on his 
back, and rubbing away at him with the comb and 
the brush. So he was quite pleased and proud, and 
perhaps said to himself something like this,— 

“I'm a stupid old horse, who can’t brush his own 
coat; but there’s my young godson on my back, 
cleaning me like an angel. ’ ’ 

I won’t vouch for what the old horse was think¬ 
ing, for it is very difficult to find out what any old 
horse is thinking. 

“Oh dear!” said Diamond when he had done, 
“I’m so tired!” 

And he laid himself down at full length on old 
Diamond’s back. 

By this time all the men in the stable were gath¬ 
ered about the two Diamonds, and all much amused. 
One of them lifted him down, and from that time he 
was a greater favourite than before. And if ever 
there was a boy who had a chance of being a prodigy 
at cab-driving, Diamond was that boy, for the strife 
came to be who should have him out with him on the 
box. 

His mother, however, was a little shy of the com- 

152 


DIAMOND GOES ON 


pany for him, and besides she could not always spare 
him. Also his father liked to have him himself 
when he could; so that he was more desired than 
enjoyed among the cabmen. 

But one way and another he did learn to drive all 
sorts of horses, and to drive them well, and that 
through the most crowded streets in London city. 
Of course there was the man always on the box-seat 
beside him, but before long there was seldom the 
least occasion to take the reins out of his hands. 
For one thing he never got frightened, and conse¬ 
quently was never in too great a hurry. Yet when 
the moment came for doing something sharp, he 
was always ready for it. I must once more remind 
my readers that he had been to the back of the north 
wind. 

One day, which was neither washing-day nor 
cleaning-day, nor marketing-day, nor Saturday, nor 
Monday—upon which consequently Diamond could 
be spared from the baby—his father took him on his 
own cab. After a stray job or two by the way, they 
drew up in the row upon the stand between Cockspur 
Street and Pall Mall. They waited a long time, but 
nobody seemed to want to be carried anywhere. By 
and by ladies would be going home from the Acad¬ 
emy exhibition, and then there would be a chance 
of a job. 

“Though, to be sure,” said Diamond’s father— 
with what truth I cannot say, but he believed what 
he said—“some ladies is very hard, and keeps you 
to the bare sixpence a mile, when every one knows 
that ain’t enough to keep a family and a cab upon. 

153 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


To be sure it’s the law; but mayhap they may get 
more law than they like some day themselves . 9 9 

As it was very hot, Diamond’s father got down 
to have a glass of beer himself, and give another to 
the old waterman. He left Diamond on the box. 

A sudden noise got up, and Diamond looked 
round to see what was the matter. 

There was a crossing near the cab-stand, where a 
girl was sweeping. Some rough young imps had 
picked a quarrel with her, and were now hauling 
at her broom to get it away from her. But as they 
did not pull all together, she was holding it against 
them, scolding and entreating alternately. 

Diamond was off his box in a moment, and run¬ 
ning to the help of the girl. He got hold of the 
broom at her end and pulled along with her. But 
the boys proceeded to rougher measures, and one 
of them hit Diamond on the nose, and made it bleed; 
and as he could not let go the broom to mind his 
nose, he was soon a dreadful figure. But presently 
his father came back, and missing Diamond, looked 
about. He had to look twice, however, before he 
could be sure that that was his boy in the middle 
of the tumult. He rushed in, and sent the assailants 
flying in all directions. The girl thanked Diamond, 
and began sweeping as if nothing had happened, 
while his father led him away. With the help of 
old Tom, the waterman, he was soon washed into de¬ 
cency, and his father set him on the box again, per¬ 
fectly satisfied with the account he gave of the cause 
of his being in a fray. 

“I couldn’t let them behave so to a poor girl— 
could I, father!” he said. 


154 


DIAMOND GOES ON 


‘‘Certainly not, Diamond/* said his father, quite 
pleased, for Diamond's father was a gentleman. 

A moment after, up came the girl, running, with 
her broom over her shoulder, and calling, “Cab, 
there! cab!” 

Diamond's father turned instantly, for he was 
the foremost in the rank, and followed the girl. 
One or two other passing cabs heard the cry, and 
made for the place, but the girl had taken care not 
to call till she was near enough to give her friends 
the first chance. When they reached the curbstone— 
who should it be waiting for the cab but Mrs. and 
Miss Coleman! They did not look at the cabman, 
however. The girl opened the door for them; they 
gave her the address, and a penny; she told the cab¬ 
man, and away they drove. 

When they reached the house, Diamond's father 
got down and rang the bell. As he opened the door 
of the cab, he touched his hat as he had been wont 
to do. The ladies both stared for a moment, and 
then exclaimed together: 

“Why, Joseph! can it be you*?” 

“Yes, ma'am; yes, miss; ” answered he, again 
touching his hat, with all the respect he could pos¬ 
sibly put into the action. “It's a lucky day which 
I see you once more upon it.” 

“Who would have thought it?” said Mrs. Cole¬ 
man. “It's changed times for both of us, Joseph, 
and it's not very often we can have a cab even; but 
you see my daughter is still very poorly, and she 
can't bear the motion of the omnibuses. Indeed we 
meant to walk a bit first before we took a cab, but 
just at the corner, for as hot as the sun was, a cold 
155 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

wind came down the street, and I saw that Miss 
Coleman must not face it. But to think we should 
have fallen upon you, of all the cabmen in London! 
I didn’t know you had got a cab.” 

‘‘Well, you see, ma’am, I had a chance of buying 
the old horse, and I couldn’t resist him. There he 
is, looking at you, ma’am. Nobody knows the sense 
in that head of his.” 

The two ladies went near to pat the horse, and 
then they noticed Diamond on the box. 

“Why, you’ve got both Diamonds with you,” said 
Miss Coleman. “How do you do, Diamond!” 

Diamond lifted liis cap, and answered politely. 

“He’ll he fit to drive himself before long,” said 
his father, proudly. “The old horse is a-teaching 
of him.” 

“Well, he must come and see us, now you’ve found 
us out. Where do you live!” 

Diamond’s father gave the ladies a ticket with his 
name and address printed on it; and then Mrs. Cole¬ 
man took out her purse, saying: 

“And what’s your fare, Joseph!” 

“No, thank you, ma’am,” said Joseph. “It was 
your own old horse as took you; and me you paid 
long ago.” 

He jumped on his box before she could say another 
word, and with a parting salute drove off, leaving 
them on the pavement, with the maid holding the 
door for them. 

It was a long time now since Diamond had seen 
North Wind, or even thought much about her. And 
as his father drove along, he was thinking not about 

156 


DIAMOND GOES ON 


her, but about the crossing-sweeper, and was won¬ 
dering what made him feel as if be knew her quite 
well, when be could not remember anything of her. 
But a picture arose in bis mind of .a little girl run¬ 
ning before the wind and dragging her broom after 
her; and from that, by degrees, be recalled the whole 
adventure of the night when he got down from 
North Wind’s back in a London street. But he 
could not quite satisfy himself whether the whole 
affair was not a dream which he had dreamed when 
he was a very little boy. Only he had been to the 
back of the north wind since—there could be no 
doubt of that; for when he woke every morning, he 
always knew that he had been there again. And as 
he thought and thought, he recalled another thing 
that had happened that morning, which, although it 
seemed a mere accident, might have something to 
do with what had happened since. His father had 
intended going on the stand at King’s Gross that 
morning, and had turned into Gray’s Inn Lane to 
drive there, when they found the way blocked up, 
and upon inquiry were informed that a stack of 
chimneys had been blown down in the night, and had 
fallen across the road. They were just clearing the 
rubbish away. Diamond’s father turned, and made 
for Charing Cross. 

That night the father and mother had a great deal 
to talk about. 

“Poor things!” said the mother; “it’s worse for 
them than it is for us. You see they’ve been used 
to such grand things, and for them to come down to 
a little poky house like that—it breaks my heart to 
think of it.” 


157 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“I don’t know,” said Diamond thoughtfully, 
“whether Mrs. Coleman had bells on her toes.” 

“What do you mean, child?” said his mother. 

‘‘ She had rings on her fingers anyhow,’ ’ returned 
Diamond. 

“Of course she had, as any lady would. What 
has that to do with it?” 

“When we were down at Sandwich,” said Dia¬ 
mond, “you said you would have to part with your 
mother’s ring, now we were poor.” 

“Bless the child! he forgets nothing,” said his 
mother. “Really, Diamond, a body would need to 
mind what they say to you.” 

i 6 Why ? ’ ’ said Diamond. ‘ ‘ I only think about it. ’ ’ 

“That’s just why,” said the mother. 

“Why is that why?” persisted Diamond, for he 
had not yet learned that grown-up people are not 
often so much grown up that they never talk like 
children—and spoilt ones too. 

“Mrs. Coleman is none so poor as all that yet. 
No, thank Heaven! she’s not come to that.” 

“Is it a great disgrace to be poor?” asked Dia¬ 
mond, because of the tone in which his mother had 
spoken. 

But his mother, whether conscience-stricken I do 
not know, hurried him away to bed, where after 
various attempts to understand her, resumed and 
resumed again in spite of invading sleep, he was 
conquered at last, and gave in, murmuring over and 
over to himself, “Why is why?” but getting no 
answer to the question. 


XVIII. 

THE DRUNKEN CABMAN 



FEW nights after this, Diamond 
woke up suddenly, believing he 
heard the North Wind thunder¬ 
ing along. But it was some¬ 
thing quite different. South 
Wind was moaning round the chimneys, to he sure, 
for she was not very happy that night, but it was 
not her voice that had wakened Diamond. Her voice 
would only have lulled him the deeper asleep. It 
was a loud, angry voice, now growling like that of 
a beast, now raving like that of a madman; and 
when Diamond came a little wider awake, he knew 
that it was the voice of the drunken cabman, the wall 
of whose room was at the head of his bed. It was 
anything but pleasant to hear, hut he could not 
help hearing it. At length there came a cry from 
the woman, and then a scream from the baby. 
Thereupon Diamond thought it time that somebody 
did something, and as himself was the only some¬ 
body at hand, he must go and see whether he could 


159 












AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


not do the something. So he got up and put on part 
of his clothes, and went down the stair, for the cab¬ 
man’s room did not open upon their stair, and he 
had to go out into the yard, and in at the next door. 
This, fortunately, the cabman, being drunk, had left 
open. By the time he reached their stair, all was 
still except the voice of the crying baby, which 
guided him to the right door. He opened it softly, 
and peeped in. There, leaning back in a chair, with 
his arms hanging down by his sides, and his legs 
stretched out before him and supported on his heels, 
sat the drunken cabman. His wife lay in her clothes 
upon the bed, sobbing, and the baby was wailing in 
the cradle. It was very miserable altogether. 

Now the way most people do when they see any¬ 
thing very miserable is to turn away from the sight, 
and try to forget it. But Diamond began as usual 
to try to destroy the misery. The little boy was just 
as much one of God’s messengers as if he had been 
an angel with a flaming sword, going out to fight the 
devil. The devil he had to fight just then was Misery. 
And the way he fought him was the very best. Like 
a wise soldier, he attacked him first in his weakest 
point—that was the baby; for Misery can never get 
such a hold of a baby as of a grown person. Dia¬ 
mond was knowing in babies, and he knew he could 
do something to make the baby happy; for although 
he had only known one baby as yet, and although 
not one baby is the same as another, yet they are 
so very much alike in some things, and he knew that 
one baby so thoroughly, that he had good reason 
to believe he could do something for any other. I 
160 


THE DRUNKEN CABMAN 

have known people who would have begun to fight 
the devil in a very different and a very stupid way. 
They would have begun by scolding the idiotic cab¬ 
man; and next they would make his wife angry by 
saying it must be her fault as well as his, and by 
leaving ill-bred though well-meant shabby little 
books for them to read, which they were sure to hate 
the sight of; while all the time they would not have 
put out a finger to touch the wailing baby. But Dia¬ 
mond had him out of the cradle in a moment, set him 
up on his knee, and told him to look at the light. 
Now all the light there was came only from a lamp 
in the yard, and it was a very dingy and yellow light, 
for the glass of the lamp was dirty, and the gas was 
bad; but the light that came from it was, notwith¬ 
standing, as certainly light as if it had come from the 
sun itself, and the baby knew that, and smiled to it; 
and although it was indeed a wretched room which 
that lamp lighted—so dreary, and dirty, and empty, 
and hopeless!—there in the middle of it sat Diamond 
on a stool, smiling to the baby, and the baby on his 
knees smiling to the lamp. The father of him sat 
staring at nothing, neither asleep nor awake, not 
quite lost in stupidity either, for through it all he 
was dimly angry with himself, he did not know why. 
It was that he had struck his wife. He had forgot¬ 
ten it, but was miserable about it, notwithstanding. 
And this misery was the voice of the great Love that 
had made him and his wife and the baby and Dia¬ 
mond, speaking in his heart, and telling him to be 
good. For that great Love speaks in the most 
wretched and dirty hearts; only the tone of its voice 
161 


11 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

depends on the echoes of the place in which it sounds. 
On Mount Sinai, it was thunder; in the cabman’s 
heart it was misery; in the soul of St. John it was 
jjerfect blessedness. 

By and by he became aware that there was a voice 
of singing in the room. This, of course, was the 
voice of Diamond singing to the baby—song after 
song, every one as foolish as another to the cabman, 
for he was too tipsy to part one word from another: 
all the words mixed up in his ear in a gurgle without 
division or stop; for such was the way he spoke him¬ 
self, when he was in this horrid condition. But the 
baby was more than content with Diamond’s songs, 
and Diamond himself was so contented with what the 
songs were all about, that he did not care a bit about 
the songs themselves, if only baby liked them. But 
they did the cabman good as well as the baby and 
Diamond, for they put him to sleep, and the sleep 
was busy all the time it lasted, smoothing the 
wrinkles out of his temper. 

At length Diamond grew tired of singing, and 
began to talk to the baby instead. And as soon as 
he stopped singing, the cabman began to wake up. 
His brain was a little clearer now, his temper a little 
smoother, and his heart not quite so dirty. He be¬ 
gan to listen and he went on listening, and heard 
Diamond saying to the baby something like this, for 
he thought the cabman was asleep: 

‘ ‘ Poor daddy! Baby’s daddy takes too much beer 
and gin, and that makes him somebody else, and 
not his own self at all. Baby’s daddy would never 
hit baby’s mammy if he didn’t take too much beer. 


162 


THE DRUNKEN CABMAN 


He’s very fond of baby’s mammy, and works from 
morning to night to get her breakfast and dinner and 
supper, only at night he forgets, and pays the money 
away for beer. And they put nasty stuff in the beer, 
I’ve heard my daddy say, that drives all the good 
out, and lets all the bad in. Daddy says when a man 
takes a drink, there’s a thirsty devil creeps into his 
inside, because he knows he will always get enough 
there. And the devil is always crying out for more 
drink, and that makes the man thirsty, and so he 
drinks more and more, till he kills himself with it. 
And then the ugly devil creeps out of him, and 
crawls about on his belly, looking for some other 
cabman to get into, that he may drink, drink, drink. 
That’s what my daddy says, baby. And he says, 
too, the only way to make the devil come out, is to 
give him plenty of cold water and tea and coffee, 
and nothing at all that comes from the public-house; 
for the devil can’t abide that kind of stuff, and 
creeps out pretty soon, for fear of being drowned in 
it. But your daddy will drink the nasty stuff, poor 
man! I wish he wouldn’t, for it makes mammy 
cross with him, and no wonder! and then when 
mammy’s cross, he’s Grosser, and there’s nobody 
in the house to take care of them but baby; and you 
do take care of them, baby—don’t you, baby? I 
know you do.. Babies always take care of their 
fathers and mothers—don’t they, baby? That’s 
what they come for—isn’t it, baby? And when 
daddy stops drinking beer and nasty gin with tur¬ 
pentine in it, father says, then mammy will be so 
happy, and look so pretty! and daddy will be so 

163 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


good to baby! and baby will be as happy as a swal¬ 
low, which is the merriest fellow! And Diamond 
will be so happy too! And when Diamond’s a man, 
he’ll take baby out with him on the box, and teach 
him to drive a cab.” 

He went on with chatter like this till baby was 
asleep, by which time he was tired, and father and 
mother were both wide awake,—only rather con¬ 
fused—the one from the beer, the other from the 
blow—and staring, the one from his chair, the other 
from her bed, at Diamond. But he was quite un¬ 
aware of their notice, for he sat half-asleep, with 
his eyes wide open, staring in his turn, though with¬ 
out knowing it, at the cabman, while the cabman 
could not withdraw his gaze from Diamond’s white 
face and big eves. For Diamond’s face was always 
rather pale, and now it was paler than usual with 
sleeplessness, and the light of the street-lamp upon 
it. At length he found himself nodding, and he 
knew then it was time to put the baby down, lest 
he should let him fall. So he rose from the little 
three-legged stool, and laid the baby in the cradle, 
and covered him up—it was well it was a warm 
night, and he did not want much covering—and then 
he all but staggered out of the door, he was so tipsy 
himself with sleep. 

“Wife,” said the cabman, turning towards the 
bed, “I do somehow believe that wur a angel just 
gone. Did you see him, wife? He warn’t wery big, 
and he hadn’t got none o’ them wingses, you know. 
It wur one o’ them baby-angels you sees on the 
gravestones, you know.” 


164 


THE DRUNKEN CABMAN 


“Nonsense, hubby!” said his wife; “but it’s just 
as good. I might say better, for you can ketch hold 
of Mm when you like. That’s little Diamond as 
everybody knows, and a duck o’ diamonds he is! 
No woman could wish for a better child than he be.” 

“ I ha ’ heerd on him in the stable, but I never see 
the brat afore. Come, old girl, let bygones be by¬ 
gones, and gie us a kiss, and we’ll go to bed.” 

The cabman kept his cab in another yard, although 
he had his room in this. He was often late in com¬ 
ing home, and was not one to take notice of children, 
especially when he was tipsy, which was oftener than 
not. Hence, if he had ever seen Diamond, he did 
not know him. But his wife knew him well enough, 
as did every one else who lived all day in the yard. 
She was a good-natured woman. It was she who 
had got the tire lighted and the tea ready for them 
when Diamond and his mother came home from 
Sandwich. And her husband was not an ill-natured 
man either, and when in the morning he recalled not 
only Diamond’s visit, but how he himself had be¬ 
haved to his wife, he was very vexed with himself, 
and gladdened his poor wife’s heart by telling her 
how sorry he was. And for a whole week after, he 
did not go near the public-house, hard as it was to 
avoid it, seeing a certain rich brewer had built one, 
like a trap to catch souls and bodies in, at almost 
every corner he had to pass on his way home. In¬ 
deed, he was never quite so bad after that, though 
it was some time before he began really to reform. 


XIX. 

DIAMOND’S FRIENDS 



NE day when old Diamond was 
standing with his nose in his bag 
between Pall Mall and Cock- 
spur Street, and his master was 
reading the newspaper on the 
box of his cab, which was the last of a good many 
in the row, little Diamond got down for a run, for his 
legs were getting cramped with sitting. And first 
of all he strolled with his hands in his pockets up 
to the crossing, where the girl and her broom were 
to be found in all weathers. Just as he was going 
to speak to her, a tall gentleman stepped upon the 
crossing. He was pleased to find it so clean, for the 
streets were muddy, and he had nice boots on; 
so he put his hand in his pocket, and gave the girl a 
penny. But when she gave him a sweet smile in re¬ 
turn, and made him a pretty courtesy, he looked 
at her again, and said: 

“ Where do you live, my child V 9 
“Paradise Bow,” she answered; “next door to 
the Adam and Eve—down the area.” 


166 
















DIAMOND’S FRIENDS 


“Whom do yon live with?” he asked. 

‘ ‘ My wicked old grannie, ’’ she replied. 

“You shouldn’t call your grannie wicked,” said 
the gentleman. 

“But she is,” said the girl, looking up confidently 
in his face. “If you don’t believe me, you can come 
and take a look at her. ’ ’ 

The words sounded rude, but the girl’s face looked 
so simple that the gentleman saw she did not mean 
to be rude, and became still more interested in her. 

“Still you shouldn’t say so,” he insisted. 

“Shouldn’t I? Everybody calls her wicked old 
grannie—even them that’s as wicked as her. You 
should hear her swear. There’s nothing like it in 
the Row. Indeed, I assure you, sir, there’s ne’er 
a one of them can shut my grannie up once she be¬ 
gins and gets right a-going. You must put her in 
a passion first, you know. It’s no good till you do 
that—she’s so old now. How she do make them 
laugh, to be sure!” 

Although she called her wicked, the child spoke so 
as plainly to indicate pride in her grannie’s pre¬ 
eminence in swearing. 

The gentleman looked very grave to hear her, for 
he was sorry that such a nice little girl should be in 
such bad keeping. But he did not know what to say 
next, and stood for a moment with his eyes on the 
ground. When he lifted them, he saw the face of 
Diamond looking up in his. 

“Please, sir,” said Diamond, “her grannie’s very 
cruel to her sometimes, and shuts her out in the 
streets at night, if she happens to be late.” 

167 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“Is this your brother!” asked the gentleman of 
the girl. 

“No, sir.” 

“How does he know your grandmother, then? 
He does not look like one of her sort.” 

‘ ‘ Oh no, sir! He ’s a good boy—quite . 9 ’ 

Here she tapped her forehead with ^er finger in 
a significant manner. 

“What do you mean by that?” asked the gentle¬ 
man, while Diamond looked on smiling. 

“The cabbies call him God’s baby,” she whis¬ 
pered. “He’s not right in the head, you know. A 
tile loose.” 

Still Diamond, though he heard every word, and 
understood it too, kept on smiling. What could it 
matter what people called him, so long as he did 
nothing he ought not to do? And, besides, God’s 
baby was surely the best of names! 

“Well, my little man, and what can you do?” 
asked the gentleman, turning towards him—just for 
the sake of saying something. 

“Drive a cab,” said Diamond. 

“Good; and what else?” he continued; for, accept¬ 
ing what the girl had said, he regarded the still 
sweetness of Diamond’s face as a sign of silliness, 
and wished to be kind to the poor little fellow. 

“Nurse a baby,” said Diamond. 

“Well—and what else?” 

“Clean father’s boots, and make him a hit of toast 
for his tea.” 

“You’re a useful little man,” said the gentleman. 
“What else can you do?” 


168 


DIAMOND’S FRIENDS 


“Not much that I know of,” said Diamond. “I 
can’t curry a horse, except somebody puts me on 
his back. So I don’t count that.” 

“Can you read?” 

“No; but mother can and father can, and they’re 
going to teach me some day soon.” 

“Well, here’s a penny for you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“And when you have learned to read, come to 
me, and I’ll give you sixpence and a hook with fine 
pictures in it.” 

“Please, sir, where am I to come?” asked Dia¬ 
mond, who was too much a man of the world not to 
know that he must have the gentleman’s address 
before he could go and see him. 

“You’re no such silly!” thought he, as he put his 
hand in his pocket, and brought out a card. 
“There,” he said, “your father will be able to read 
that, and tell you where to go.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” said Diamond, and 
put the card in his pocket. 

The gentleman walked away, but turning round 
a few paces off, saw Diamond give his penny to the 
girl, and, walking slower, heard him say: 

“I’ve got a father, and mother, and little brother, 
and you’ve got nothing but a wicked old grannie. 
You may have my penny.” 

The girl put it beside the other in her pocket, the 
only trustworthy article of dress she wore. Her 
grandmother always took care that she had a stout 
pocket. 

“Is she as cruel as ever?” asked Diamond. 


169 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


1 1 Much the same. But I gets more coppers now 
than I used to, and I can get summats to eat, and 
take browns enough home besides to keep her from 
grumbling. It’s a good thing she’s so blind, 
though. ’ ’ 

“Why?” asked Diamond. 

“’Cause if she was as sharp in the eyes as she 
used to be, she would find out I never eats her broken 
wittles, and then she’d know as I must get something 
somewheres.” 

4 ‘ Doesn’t she watch you, then ? ’ ’ 

“O’ course she do. Don’t she just! But I make 
believe and drop it in my lap, and then hitch it into 
my pocket.” 

“What would she do if she found you out?” 

“She’d never give me no more.” 

“But you don’t want it!” 

“Yes, I do want it.” 

“What do you do with it, then?” 

4 4 Give it to cripple Jim. ’ ’ 

“Who’s cripple Jim?” 

“A boy in the Row. His mother broke his leg 
when he wur a kid, so he’s never come to much; but 
he’s a good boy, is Jim, and I love Jim dearly. I 
always keeps off a penny for Jim—leastways as 
often as I can.—But there, I must sweep again, for 
them busses makes no end o’ dirt.” 

4 4 Diamond! Diamond! ’ ’ cried his father, who was 
afraid he might get no good by talking to the girl; 
and Diamond obeyed, and got up again upon the box. 
He told his father about the gentleman, and what he 
had promised him if he would learn to read, and 
showed him the gentleman’s card. 

170 


DIAMOND’S FRIENDS 


“Why, it’s not many doors from the Mews!” said 
his father, giving him back the card. “Take care of 
it, my boy, for it may lead to something. God 
knows, in these hard times a man wants as many 
friends as he’s ever likely to get.” 

“Haven’t yon got friends enough, father?” asked 
Diamond. 

“Well, I have no right to complain; but the more 
the better, you know. ’ ’ 

“Just let me count,” said Diamond. 

And he took his hands from his pockets, and 
spreading out the fingers of his left hand, began to 
count, beginning at the thumb. 

“There’s mother first; and then baby, and then 
me. Next there’s old Diamond—and the cab—no, 
I won’t count the cab, for it never looks at you, 
and when Diamond’s out of the shafts, it’s nobody. 
Then there’s the man that drinks next door, and 
his wife, and his baby.” 

“They’re no friends of mine,” said his father. 

“Well, they’re friends of mine,” said Diamond. 

His father laughed. 

“Much good they’ll do you!” he said. 

“How do you know they won’t?” returned Dia¬ 
mond. 

“Well, go on,” said his father. 

“Then there’s Jack and Mr. Stonecrop, and, 
deary me! not to have mentioned Mr. Coleman and 
Mrs. Coleman, and Miss Coleman, and Mrs. Crump. 
And then there’s the clergyman that spoke to me in 
the garden that day the tree was blown down.” 

“What’s his name?” 


171 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“I don’t know kis name.” 

“Where does he liver’ 

“I don’t know.” 

“How can yon count him, then?” 

“He did talk to me, and very kindlike too.” 

His father laughed again. 

“Why, child, you’re just counting everybody you 
know. That don’t make ’em friends.” 

‘ 4 Don’t it? I thought it did. Well, but they shall 
be my friends. I shall make ’em.” 

“How will you do that?” 

“They can’t help themselves then, if they would. 
If I choose to be their friend, you know, they can’t 
prevent me. Then there’s that girl at the crossing.” 

“A fine set of friends you do have, to be sure, 
Diamond! ’ ’ 

“Surely she’s a friend anyhow, father. If it 
hadn’t been for her, you would never have got Mrs. 
Coleman and Miss Coleman to carry home.” 

His father was silent, for he saw that Diamond 
was right, and was ashamed to find himself more 
ungrateful than he had thought. 

“Then there’s the new gentleman,” Diamond 
went on. 

“If he do as he say,” interposed his father. 

“And why shouldn’t he? I daresay sixpence 
ain’t too much for him to spare. But I don’t quite 
understand, father: is nobody your friend but the 
one that does something for you?” 

“No, I won’t say that, my boy. You would have 
to leave out baby then.” 

“Oh no, I shouldn’t. Baby can laugh in your 

172 


DIAMOND’S FRIENDS 


face, and crow in your ears, and make you feel so 
happy. Call you that nothing, father ! ’’ 

The father’s heart was fairly touched now. He 
made no answer to this last appeal, and Diamond 
ended off with saying: 

“And there’s the best of mine to come yet—and 
that’s you, daddy—except it he mother, you know. 
You’re my friend, daddy, ain’t you! And I’m your 
friend, ain’t I!” 

“And God for us all,” said his father, and then 
they were both silent for that was very solemn. 






XX. 

DIAMOND LEARNS TO READ 



HE question of the tall gentleman 
as to whether Diamond could 
read or not, set his father think¬ 
ing it was high time he could; 
and as soon as old Diamond was 
suppered and bedded, he began the task that very 
night. But it was not much of a task to Diamond, 
for his father took for his lesson-book those very 
rhymes his mother had picked up on the sea-shore; 
and as Diamond was not beginning too soon, he 
learned very fast indeed. Within a month he was 
able to spell out most of the verses for himself. 

But he had never come upon the poem he thought 
he had heard his mother read from it that day. He 
had looked through and through the book several 
times after he knew the letters and a few words, 
fancying he could tell the look of it, but had always 
failed to find one more like it than another. So 
he wisely gave up the search till he could really read. 
Then he resolved to begin at the beginning, and 

174 








WITHIN A MONTH HE WAS ABLE TO SPELL OUT MOST OF THE VERSES FOR HIMSELF 



DIAMOND LEARNS TO READ 


read them all straight through. This took him 
nearly a fortnight. When he had almost reached 
the end, he came upon the following verses, which 
took his fancy much, although they were certainly 
not very like those he was in search of. 

LITTLE BOY BLUE 

Little Boy Blue lost his way in a wood. 

Sing apples and cherries, roses and honey; 

He said, “ I would not go back if I could. 

It’s all so jolly and funny .” 

He sang, “ This wood is all my own, 

Apples and cherries, roses and honey; 

So here I *11 sit, like a king on my throne. 

All so jolly and funny.” 

A little snake crept out of the tree, 

Apples and cherries, roses and honey; 

“ Lie down at my feet, little snake,” said he, 

All so jolly and funny. 

A little bird sang in the tree overhead, 

Apples and cherries, roses and honey; 

“ Come and sing your song on my finger instead. 

All so jolly and funny.” 

The snake coiled up; and the bird flew down, 

And sang him the song of Birdie Brown. 

Little Boy Blue found it tiresome to sit, 

And he thought he had better walk on a bit. 

So up he got, his way to take, 

And he said, “ Come along, little bird and snake.” 

And waves of snake o’er the damp leaves passed, 

And the snake went first and Birdie Brown last; 

1 By Boy Blue’s head, with flutter and dart, 

Flew Birdie Brown with its song in its heart. 


175 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


He came where the apples grew red and sweet: 

“ Tree, drop me an apple down at my feet.” 

He came where the cherries hung plump and red: 

“ Come to my mouth, sweet kisses,” he said. 

And the boughs bow down, and the apples they dapple 
The grass, too many for him to grapple. 

And the cheeriest cherries, with never a miss, 

Fall to his mouth, each a full-grown kiss. 

He met a little brook singing a song. 

He said, “ Little brook, you are going wrong. 

“ You must follow me, follow me, follow, I say 
Do as I tell you, and come this way.” 

And the song-singing, sing-songing forest brook 
Leaped from its bed and after him took, 

Followed him, followed. And pale and wan, 

The dead leaves rustled as the water ran. 

And every bird high up on the bough, 

And every creature low down below, 

He called, and the creatures obeyed the call, 

Took their legs and their wings and followed him all; 

Squirrels that carried their tails like a sack, 

Each on his own little humpy brown back; 

Householder snails, and slugs all tails, 

And butterflies, flutterbies, ships all sails; 

And weasels, and ousels, and mice, and larks, 

And owls, and rere-mice, and harkydarks, 

All went running, and creeping, and flowing, 

After the merry boy fluttering and going; 

The dappled fawns fawning, the fallow-deer following, 
The swallows and flies, flying and swallowing; 

176 


DIAMOND LEARNS TO READ 


Cockchafers, henchafers, cockioli-birds, 

Cockroaches, henroaches, cuckoos in herds. 

The spider forgot and followed him spinning, 

And lost all his thread from end to beginning. 

The gay wasp forgot his rings and his waist, 

He never had made such undignified haste. 

The dragon-flies melted to mist with their hurrying. 

The mole in his moleskins left his barrowing burrowing. 

The bees went buzzing, so busy and beesy, 

And the midges in columns so upright and easy. 

But Little Boy Blue was not content, 

Calling for followers still as he went, 

Blowing his horn, and beating his drum, 

And crying aloud, “ Come all of you, come! ” 

He said to the shadows, “ Come after me; ” 

4nd the shadows began to flicker and flee, 

A.nd they flew through the wood all flattering and fluttering, 
Over the dead leaves flickering and muttering. 

And he said to the wind, “ Come, follow; come, follow, 
With whistle and pipe, and rustle and hollo.” 

And the wind wound round at his desire, 

As if he had been the gold cock on the spire. 

And the cock itself flew down from the church, 

And left the farmers all in the lurch. 

They run and they fly, they creep and they come, 
Everything, everything, all and some. 

The very trees they tugged at their roots, 

Only their feet were too fast in their boots, 

After him leaning and straining and bending, 

As on through their boles he kept walking and wending, 


12 


177 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Till out of the wood he burst on a lea, 

Shouting and calling, “ Come after me! ” 

And then they rose up with a leafy hiss, 

And stood as if nothing had been amiss. 

Little Boy Blue sat down on a stone, 

And the creatures came round him every one. 

And he said to the clouds, “ I want you there; ” 
And down they sank through the thin blue air. 

And he said to the sunset far in the west, 

“ Come here; I want you; I know best.” 

And the sunset came and stood up on the wold, 
And burned and glowed in purple and gold. 

Then Little Boy Blue began to ponder: 

“ What’s to be done with them all, I wonder.” 

Then Little Boy Blue, he said, quite low, 

“ What to do with you all I am sure I don’t know.” 

Then the clouds clodded down till dismal it grew; 
The snake sneaked close; round Birdie Brown tlew 

The brook sat up like a snake on its tail; 

And the wind came up with a what-will-you wail; 

And all the creatures sat and stared; 

The mole opened his very eyes and glared; 

And for rats and bats and the world and his wife, 
Little Boy Blue was afraid of his life. 

Then Birdie Brown began to sing, 

And what he sang was the very thing: 

“ You have brought us all hither, Little Boy Blue, 
Pray what do you want us all to do ? ” 

“ Go away! go away! ” said Little Boy Blue; 

“I’m sure I don’t want you—get away—do.” 


DIAMOND LEARNS TO READ 


“ No, no; no, no; no, yes, and no, no,” 

Sang Birdie Brown, “ it must n’t be so. 

“We cannot for nothing come here, and away. 

Give us some work, or else we stay.” 

“ Oh dear! and oh dear! ” with sob and with sigh, 

Said Little Boy Blue, and began to cry. 

But before he got far, he thought of a thing; 

And up he stood, and spoke like a king. 

“ Why do you hustle and jostle and bother? 

Off with you all! Take me back to my mother.” 

The sunset stood at the gates of the west. 

“ Follow me, follow me,” came from Birdie Brown’s breast. 

" I am going that way as fast as I can,” 

Said the brook, as it sank and turned and ran. 

Back to the woods fled the shadows like ghosts: 

“ If we stay, we shall all be missed from our posts.” 

Said the wind with a voice that had changed its cheer, 

“ I was just going there, when you brought me here.” 

“ That’s where I live,” said the sack-backed squirrel, 

And he turned his sack with a swing and a swirl. 

Said the cock of the spire, “ His father’s churchwarden.” 
Said the brook running faster, “ I run through his garden.” 

Said the mole, “ Two hundred worms—there I caught ’em 
Last year, and I’m going again next autumn.” 

Said they all, “ If that’s where you want us to steer for, 
What on earth or in water did you bring us here for?” 

“ Never you mind,” said Little Boy Blue; 

“ That’s what I tell you. If that you won’t do, 

“ I ’ll get up at once, and go home without you. 

I think I will; I begin to doubt you.” 


179 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


He rose; and up rose the snake on its tail, 

And hissed three times, half a hiss, half a wail. 

Little Boy Blue he tried to go past him; 

But wherever he turned, sat the snake and faced him. 

“ If you don’t get out of my way,” he said, 

“ I tell you, snake, I will break your head.” 

The snake he neither would go nor come; 

So he hit him hard with the stick of his drum. 

The snake fell down as if he were dead, 

And Little Boy Blue set his foot on his head. 

And all the creatures they marched before him, 

And marshalled him home with a high cockolorum. 

And Birdie Brown sang Twirrrr twitter twirrrr twee— 
Apples and cherries, roses and honey; 

Little Boy Blue has listened to me— 

All §o jolly and funny. 










XXI. 

SAL’S NANNY 



“Yes, it’s pretty,’’ she answered. 

‘ < I think it means something,’ 9 returned Diamond. 
“I’m sure I don’t know what,” she said. 

“I wonder if it’s the same boy—-yes, it must be 
the same—Little Boy Blue, you know. Let me see— 
how does that rhyme go ? 

Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn— 

Yes, of course it is—for this one went ‘ blowing his 
horn and beating his drum. ’ He had a drum too. 

Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn; 

The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn. 

He had to keep them out, you know. But he wasn’t 
minding his work. It goes— 

181 










AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Where’s the little boy that looks after the sheep ? 

He’s under the haystack, fast asleep. 

There, you see, mother! And then, let me see— 

Who ’ll go and wake him ? No, not I ; 

For if I do, he ’ll be sure to cry. 

So I suppose nobody did wake him. He was a 
rather cross little boy, I daresay, when woke up. 
And when he did wake of himself, and saw the mis¬ 
chief the cow had done to the corn, instead of run¬ 
ning home to his mother, he ran away into the wood 
and lost himself. Don’t you think that’s very likely, 
mother ? ’ ’ 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” she answered. 

“So you see he was naughty; for even when he 
lost himself he did not want to go home. Any^ of 
the creatures would have shown him the way if he 
had asked it—all but the snake. He followed the 
snake, you know, and he took him farther away. I 
suppose it was a young one of the same serpent that 
tempted Adam and Eve. Father was telling us 
about it last Sunday, you remember.” 

“Bless the child!” said his mother to herself; 
and then added aloud, finding that Diamond did not 
go on, “Well, what next?” 

“I don’t know, mother. I’m sure there’s a great 
deal more, but what it is I can’t say. I only know 
that he killed the snake. I suppose that’s what he 
had a drumstick for. He couldn’t do it with his 
horn.” 

“But surely you’re not such a silly as to take it 
all for true, Diamond?” 


182 


SAL’S NANNY 


“I think it must be. It looks true. That killing 
of the snake looks true. It’s what Z’ve got to do 
so often.” 

His mother looked uneasy. Diamond smiled full 
in her face, and added— 

“When baby cries and won’t be happy, and when 
father and you talk about your troubles, I mean. ’ ’ 

This did little to reassure his mother; and lest my 
reader should have his qualms about it too, I venture 
to remind him once more that Diamond had been 
to the back of the north wind. 

Finding she made no reply, Diamond went on— 

“In a week or so, I shall be able to go to the tall 
gentleman and tell him I can read. And I ’ll ask him 
if he can help me to understand the rhyme.” 

But before the week was out, he had another 
reason for going to Mr. Raymond. 

For three days, on each of which, at one time or 
other, Diamond’s father was on the same stand near 
the National Gallery, the girl was not at her cross¬ 
ing, and Diamond got quite anxious about her, fear¬ 
ing she must be ill. On the fourth day, not seeing 
her yet, he said to his father, who had that moment 
shut the door of his cab upon a fare— 

“Father, I want to go and look after the girl. 
She can’t be well.” 

“All right,” said his father. “Only take care 
of yourself, Diamond.” 

So saying he climbed on his box and drove off. 

He had great confidence in his boy, you see, and 
would trust him anywhere. But if he had known the 
kind of place in which the girl lived, he would per- 

183 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


haps have thought twice before he allowed him 
to go alone. Diamond, who did know something of 
it, had not, however, any fear. From talking to 
the girl he had a good notion of where about it was, 
and he remembered the address well enough; so by 
asking his way some twenty times, mostly of police¬ 
men, he came at length pretty near the place. The 
last policeman he questioned looked down upon 
him from the summit of six feet two inches, and 
replied with another question, but kindly: 

“What do you want there, my small kid? It ain’t 
where you was bred, I guess.” 

“No, sir,” answered Diamond. “I live in 
Bloomsbury.” 

“That’s a long way off,” said the policeman. 

“Yes, it’s a good distance,” answered Diamond; 
“but I find my way about pretty well. Policemen 
are always kind to me.” 

‘‘ But what on earth do you want here ? ’ ’ 

Diamond told him plainly what he was about, and 
of course the man believed him, for nobody ever 
disbelieved Diamond. People might think he was 
mistaken, but they never thought he was telling a 
story. 

“It’s an ugly place,” said the policeman. 

“Is it far off!” asked Diamond. 

“No. It’s next door almost. But it’s not safe.” 

“Nobody hurts me,” said Diamond. 

“I must go with you, I suppose.” 

“Oh, no! please not,” said Diamond. “They 
might think I was going to meddle with them, and 
I ain’t, you know.” 


184 


SAL’S NANNY 


“Well, do as yon please,” said the man, and gave 
him full directions. 

Diamond set off, never suspecting that the police¬ 
man, who was a kind-hearted man, with children of 
his own, was following him close, and watching him 
round every corner. As he went on, all at once he 
thought he remembered the place, and whether it 
really was so, or only that he had laid up the police¬ 
man’s instructions well in his mind, he went straight 
for the cellar of old Sal. 

“He’s a sharp little kid, anyhow, for as simple as 
he looks,” said the man to himself. “Not a wrong 
turn does he take! But old Sal’s a rum un for such 
a child to pay a morning visit to. She’s worse when 
she’s sober than when she’s half drunk. I’ve seen 
her when she’d have torn him in pieces.” 

Happily then for Diamond, old Sal had gone out 
to get some gin. When he came to her door at the 
bottom of the area-stair and knocked, he received 
no answer. He laid his ear to the door, and thought 
he heard a moaning within. So he tried the door, 
and found it was not locked! It was a dreary place 
indeed,—and very dark, for the window was below 
the level of the street, and covered with mud, while 
over the grating which kept people from falling into 
the area, stood a chest of drawers, placed there by a 
dealer in second-hand furniture, which shut out 
almost all the light. And the smell in the place was 
dreadful. Diafnond stood still for a while, for he 
could see next to nothing, but he heard the moaning 
plainly enough now. When he got used to the dark¬ 
ness, he discovered his friend lying with closed eyes 
and a white suffering face on a heap of little better 
185 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


than rags in a corner of the den. He went up to 
her and spoke; but she made him no answer. In¬ 
deed, she was not in the least aware of his presence, 
and Diamond saw that he could do* nothing for her 
without help. So taking a lump of barley-sugar 
from his pocket, which he had bought for her as he 
came along, and laying it beside her, he left the 
place, having already made up his mind to go and 
see the tall gentleman, Mr. Raymond, and ask him 
to do something for Sal’s Nanny, as the girl was 
called. 

By the time he got up the area-steps, three or four 
women who had seen him go down were standing 
together at the top waiting for him. They wanted 
his clothes for their children; but they did not fol¬ 
low him down lest Sal should find them there. The 
moment he appeared, they laid their hands on him, 
and all began talking at once, for each wanted to get 
some advantage over her neighbours. He told them 
quite quietly, for he was not frightened, that he had 
come to see what was the matter with Nanny. 

“What do you know about Nanny?” said one of 
them fiercely. “Wait till old Sal comes home, and 
you’ll catch it, for going prying into her house when 
she’s out. If you don’t give me your jacket directly, 
I’ll go and fetch her.” 

‘ ‘ I can’t give you my jacket, ’ ’ said Diamond. ‘ ‘ It 
belongs to my father and mother, you know. It’s 
not mine to give. Is it now? You would not think 
it right to give away what wasn’t yours—would you 
now?” 

‘ ‘ Give it away! No, that I wouldn’t; I’d keep it, ’ ’ 
she said, with a rough laugh. “But if the jacket 
186 


SALS NANNY 


ain’t yours, what right have you to keep it? Here, 
Cherry, make haste. It hi be one go apiece/ ’ 

They all began to tug at the jacket, while Dia¬ 
mond stooped and kept his arms bent to resist them. 
Before they had done him or the jacket any harm, 
however, suddenly they all scampered away; and 
Diamond, looking in the opposite direction, saw the 
tall policeman coming towards him. 

“You had better have let me come with you, little 
man,” he said, looking down in Diamond’s face, 
which was flushed with his resistance. 

“You came just in the right time, thank you,” 
returned Diamond. “They’ve done me no harm.” 

“They would have if I hadn’t been at hand, 
though. ’ ’ 

“Yes; but you were at hand, you know, so they 
couldn’t. ’ ’ 

Perhaps the answer was deeper in purport than 
either Diamond or the policeman knew. They 
walked away together, Diamond telling his new 
friend how ill poor Nanny was, and that he was 
going to let the tall gentleman know. The police¬ 
man put him in the nearest way for Bloomsbury, 
and stepping out in good earnest, Diamond reached 
Mr. Raymond’s door in less than an hour. When 
he asked if he was at home, the servant, in return, 
asked what he wanted. 

“I want to tell him something.” 

“But I can’t go and trouble him with such a mes¬ 
sage as that.” 

“He told me to come to him—that is, when I could 
read—and I can.” 


187 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

* ‘ How am I to know that ? ’’ 

Diamond stared with astonishment for one mo¬ 
ment, then answered: 

“Why, I’ve just told you. That’s how you know 
it.” 

But this man was made of coarser grain than the 
policeman, and, instead of seeing that Diamond 
could not tell a lie, he put his answer down as im¬ 
pudence, and saying, “Do you think I’m going to 
take your word for it?” shut the door in his face. 

Diamond turned and sat down on the doorstep, 
thinking with himself that the tall gentleman must 
either come in or come out, and he was therefore in 
the best possible position for finding him. He had 
not waited long before the door opened again; but 
when he looked round, it was only the servant once 
more. 

“Get away,” he said. “What are you doing on 
the doorstep?” 

“Waiting for Mr. Raymond,” answered Diamond, 
getting up. 

“He’s not at home.” 

“Then I’ll wait till he comes,” returned Diamond, 
sitting down again with a smile. 

What the man would have done next I do not 
know, but a step sounded from the hall, and when 
Diamond looked round yet again, there was the tall 
gentleman. 

“Who’s this, John?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, sir. An imperent little boy as 
will sit on the doorstep.” 

“Please, sir,” said Diamond, “he told me you 
weren’t at home, and I sat down to wait for you. ’ ’ 
188 


SAL’S NANNY 


‘ ‘ Eh, what! ’ ’ said Mr. Raymond. ‘‘ John! John! 
This won’t do. Is it a habit of yours to turn away 
my visitors? There’ll he some one else to turn 
away, I’m afraid, if I find any more of this kind of 
thing. Come in, my little man. I suppose you’ve 
come to claim your sixpence?” 

“No, sir, not that.” 

“What! can’t you read yet?” 

“Yes, I can now, a little. But I’ll come for that 
next time. I came to tell you about Sal’s Nanny.” 

“Who’s Sal’s Nanny?” 

“The girl at the crossing you talked to the same 
day. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes; I remember. What’s the matter? 
Has she got run over?” 

Then Diamond told him all. 

Now Mr. Raymond was one of the kindest men 
in London. He sent at once to have the horse put 
to the brougham, took Diamond with him, and 
drove to the Children’s Hospital. There he was 
well known to everybody, for he was not only a large 
subscriber, hut he used to go and tell the children 
stories of an afternoon. One of the doctors prom¬ 
ised to go and find Nanny, and do what could he 
done—have her brought to the hospital, if possible. 

That same night they sent a litter for her, and as 
she could be of no use to old Sal until she was better, 
she did not object to having her removed. So she 
was soon lying in the fever ward—for the first time 
in her life in a nice clean bed. But she knew noth¬ 
ing of the whole affair. She was too ill to know 
anything. 


189 


XXII. 

MR. RAYMOND’S RIDDLE 



R. RAYMOND took Diamond 
home with him, stopping at the 
Mews to tell his mother that he 
would send him back soon. 
Diamond ran in with the mes¬ 
sage himself, and when he reappeared he had in 
his hand the torn and crumpled book which North 
Wind had given him. 

“Ah! I see,” said Mr. Raymond: “you are going 
to claim your sixpence now.” 

“I wasn’t thinking of that so much as of another 
thing,” said Diamond. “There’s a rhyme in this 
book I can’t quite understand. I want you to tell 
me what it means, if you please. ’ ’ 

“I will if I can,” answered Mr. Raymond. “You 
shall read it to me when we get home, and then I 
shall see.” 

Still with a good many blunders, Diamond did 
read it after a fashion. Mr. Raymond took the little 
book and read it over again. 


190 











MR. RAYMOND’S RIDDLE 


Now Mr. Raymond was a poet himself, and so, 
although he had never been at the back of the north 
wind, he was able to understand the poem pretty 
well. But before saying anything about it, he read 
it over aloud, and Diamond thought he understood 
it much better already. 

‘ 4 I’ll tell you what I think it means,’’ he then said. 
“It means that people may have their way for a 
while, if they like, but it will get them into such 
troubles they’ll wish they hadn’t had it.” 

“I know, I know!” said Diamond. “Like the 
poor cabman next door. He drinks too much.” 

“Just so,” returned Mr. Raymond. “But when 
people want to do right, things about them will try 
to help them. Only they must kill the snake, you 
know. ’ ’ 

“I was sure the snake had something to do with 
it,” cried Diamond triumphantly. 

A good deal more talk followed, and Mr. Raymond 
gave Diamond his sixpence. 

“What will you do with it?” he asked. 

“Take it home to my mother,” he answered. 
4 4 She has a teapot—such a black one!—with a broken 
spout, and she keeps all her money in it. It ain’t 
much; but she sayes it up to buy shoes for me. And 
there’s baby coming on famously, and he’ll want 
shoes soon. And every sixpence is something— 
ain’t it, sir?” 

“To be sure, my man. I hope you’ll always make 
as good a use of your money.” 

“I hope so, sir,” said Diamond. 

“And here’s a book for you, full of pictures and 

191 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

stories and poems. I wrote it myself, chiefly for the 
children of the hospital where I hope Nanny is go¬ 
ing. I don’t mean I printed it, you know. I made 
it,” added Mr. Raymond, wishing Diamond to un¬ 
derstand that he was the author of the book. 

“I know what you mean. I make songs myself. 
They’re awfully silly, but they please baby, and 
that’s all they’re meant for.” 

4 ‘Couldn’t you let me hear one of them now?” 
said Mr. Raymond. 

“No, sir, I couldn’t. I forget them as soon as 
I’ve done with them. Besides, I couldn’t make a 
line without baby on my knee. We make them to¬ 
gether, you know. They’re just as much baby’s as 
mine. It’s he that pulls them out of me.” 

“I suspect the child’s a genius,” said the poet to 
himself, “and that’s what makes people think him 
silly. ’ ’ 

Now if any of my child readers want to know 
what a genius is—shall I try to tell them, or shall 
I not? I will give them one very short answer: 
it means one who understands things without any 
other body telling him what they mean. God makes 
a few such now and then to teach the rest of us. 

“Do you like riddles?” asked Mr. Raymond, turn¬ 
ing over the leaves of his own hook. 

“I don’t know what a riddle is,” said Diamond. 

“It’s something that means something else, and 
you’ve got to find out what the something else is.” 

Mr. Raymond liked the old-fashioned riddle best, 
and had written a few—one of which he now read. 


192 


MR. RAYMOND’S RIDDLE 


I have only one foot, but thousands of toes; 

My one foot stands, but never goes. 

I have many arms, and they ’re mighty ail; 

And hundreds of fingers, large and small. 

From the ends of my fingers my beauty grows. 

I breathe with my hair, and I drink with my toes. 

I grow bigger and bigger about the waist, 

And yet I am always very tight laced. 

None e’er saw me eat—I’ve no mouth to bite; 

Yet I eat all day in the full sunlight. 

In the summer with song I shake and quiver, 

But in winter I fast and groan and shiver. 

“Do yon know what that means, Diamond!” he 
asked, when he had finished. 

“No, indeed, I don’t,” answered Diamond. 

“Then you can read it for yourself, and think 
over it, and see if you can find it out,” said Mr. 
Raymond, giving him the book. “And now you had 
better go home to your mother. When you’ve found 
the riddle, you can come again. ’ ’ 

If Diamond had had to find out the riddle in order 
to see Mr. Raymond again, I doubt if he would ever 
have seen him. 

“Oh then,” I think I hear some little reader say, 
“he could not have been a genius, for a genius finds 
out things without being told.” 

I answer, “Genius finds out truths, not tricks.” 
And if you do not understand that, I am afraid you 
must be content to wait till you grow older and 
know more. 


13 


XXIII. 

THE EARLY BIRD 



HHEN Diamond got home he found 
SJ his father at home already, sit¬ 
ting by the fire and looking 
rather miserable, for his head 
ached and he felt sick. He had 
been doing night work of late, and it had not agreed 
with him, so he had given it np, hut not in time, for 
he had taken some kind of fever. The next day he 
was forced to keep his bed, and his wife nursed him, 
and Diamond attended to the baby. If he had not 
been ill, it would have been delightful to have him 
at home; and the first day Diamond sang more songs 
than ever to the baby, and his father listened with 
some pleasure. But the next he could not bear even 
Diamond’s sweet voice, and was very ill indeed; 
so Diamond took the baby into his own room, and 
had no end of quiet games with him there. If he 
did pull all his bedding on the floor, it did not mat¬ 
ter, for he kept baby very quiet, and made the bed 
himself again, and slept in it with baby all the next 
night, and many nights after. 

194 


















THE EARLY BIRD 


But long before his father got well, his mother’s 
savings were all but gone. She did not say a word 
about it in the hearing of her husband, lest she should 
distress him; and one night, when she could not 
help crying, she came into Diamond’s room that his 
father might not hear her. She thought Diamond 
was asleep, but he was not. When he heard her 
sobbing, he was frightened, and said— 

“Is father worse, mother?” 

“No, Diamond,” she answered, as well as she 
could; “he’s a good bit better.” 

“Then what are you crying for, mother?” 

“Because my money is almost all gone,” she 
replied. 

“0 mammy, you make me think of a little poem 
baby and I learned out of North Wind’s book to-day. 
Don’t you remember how I bothered you about some 
of the words?” 

“Yes, child,” said his mother heedlessly, thinking 
only of what she should do after to-morrow. 

Diamond began and repeated the poem, for he had 
a wonderful memory. 

A little bird sat on the edge of her nest; 

Her yellow-beaks slept as sound as tops; 

That day she had done her very best, 

And had filled every one of their little crops. 

She had filled her own just over-full, 

And hence she was feeling a little dull. 

" Oh, dear! ” she sighed, as she sat with her head 
Sunk in her chest, and no neck at all, 

While her crop stuck out like a feather bed 
Turned inside out, and rather small; 

“ What shall I do if things don’t reform ? 

I don’t know where there’s a single worm. 


195 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“ I’ve had twenty to-day. and the children live each, 
Besides a few flies, and some very fat spiders: 
No one will say I don’t do as I preach— 

I’m one of the best of bird-providers; 

But where’s the use ? We want a storm— 

I don’t know where there’s a single worm.” 

“ There’s five in my crop,” said a wee, wee bird, 
Which woke at the voice of his mother’s pain; 

“ I know where there’s five.” And with the word 
He tucked in his head, and went off again. 

* The folly of childhood,” sighed his mother, 

Has always been my especial bother.” 

The yellow-beaks they slept on and on— 

They never had heard of the bogy To-morrow; 
But the mother sat outside, making her moan— 
She ’ll soon have to beg, or steal, or borrow; 
For she never can tell the night before 
Where she shall find one red worm more. 

The fact, as I say, was, she’d had too many; 

, She could n’t sleep, and she called it virtue, 
Motherly foresight, affection, any 
Name you may call it that will not hurt you. 
So it was late ere she tucked her head in, 

And she slept so late it was almost a sin. 

But the little fellow who knew of five, 

Nor troubled his head about any more, 

Woke very early, felt quite alive, 

And wanted a sixth to add to his store: 

He pushed his mother, the greedy elf, 

Then thought he had better try for himself. 

When his mother awoke and had rubbed her eyes, 
Feeling less like a bird, and more like a mole, 
She saw him—fancy with what surprise— 
Dragging a huge worm out of a hole! 

’Twas of this same hero the proverb took form: 
’Tis the early bird that catches the worm. 


196 


THE EARLY BIRD 


‘ i There, mother!” said Diamond, as he finished; 
“ain’t it funny?” 

“I wish you were like that little bird, Diamond, 
and could catch worms for yourself,” said his 
mother, as she rose to go and look after her husband. 

Diamond lay awake for a few minutes, thinking 
what he could do to catch worms. It was very little 
trouble to make up his mind, however, and still less 
to go to sleep after it. 





XXIV. 

ANOTHER EARLY BIRD 



E got up in the morning as soon 
as he heard the men moving in 
the yard. He tucked in his little 
brother so that he could not 
tumble out of bed, and then went 
out, leaving the door open, so that if he should cry 
his mother might hear him at once. When he got 
into the yard he found the stable-door just opened. 

“I’m the early bird, I think,” he said to himself. 
‘‘1 hope I shall catch the worm. ’ ’ 

He would not ask any one to help him, fearing his 
project might meet with disapproval and opposition. 
With great difficulty, hut with the help of a broken 
chair he brought down from his bedroom, he man¬ 
aged to put the harness on Diamond. If the old 
horse had had the least objection to the proceeding,of 
course he could not have done it; but even when it 
came to the bridle, he opened his mouth for the bit, 
just as if he had been taking the apple which Dia¬ 
mond sometimes gave him. He fastened the cheek- 

198 












HE FASTENED THE CHEEK-STRAP VERY CAREFULLY 








































































ANOTHER EARLY BIRD 


strap very carefully, just in the usual hole, for fear 
of choking his friend, or else letting the bit get 
amongst his teeth. It was a job to get the saddle 
on; but with the chair he managed it. If old Dia¬ 
mond had had an education in physics to equal that 
of the camel, he would have knelt down to let him 
put it on his back, but that was more than could be 
expected of him, and then Diamond had to creep 
quite under him to get hold of the girth. The col¬ 
lar was almost the worst part of the business; but 
there Diamond could help Diamond. He held his 
head very low till his little master had got it over 
and turned it round, and then he lifted his head, 
and shook it on to his shoulders. The yoke was 
rather difficult; but when he had laid the traces 
over the horse’s neck, the weight was not too much 
for him. He got him right at last, and led him out 
of the stable. 

By this time there were several of the men watch¬ 
ing him, but they would not interfere, they were so 
anxious to see how he would get over the various 
difficulties. They followed him as far as the stable- 
door, and there stood watching him again as he put 
the horse between the shafts, got them up one after 
the other into the loops, fastened the traces, the 
belly-band, the breeching, and the reins. 

Then he got his whip. The moment he mounted 
the box, the men broke into a hearty cheer of delight 
at his success. But they would not let him go with¬ 
out a general inspection of the harness; and al¬ 
though they found it right, for not a buckle had to be 
shifted, they never allowed him to do it for himself 
again all the time his father was ill. 

199 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

The cheer brought his mother to the window, and 
there she saw her little boy setting out alone with 
the cab in the gray of the morning. She tugged at 
the window, but it was stiff; and before she could 
open it, Diamond, who was in a great hurry, was out 
of the mews, and almost out of the street. She 
called “Diamond! Diamond!” but there was no 
answer except from Jack. 

“Never fear for him, ma’am,” said Jack. “Ithid 
be only a devil as would hurt him, and there ain’t 
so many o’ them as some folk ’ud have you believe. 
A boy o’ Diamond’s size as can ’arness a ’oss t’other 
Diamond’s size, and put him to, right as a trivet—if 
he do upset the keb—’ll fall on his feet, ma’am.” 

“But he won’t upset the cab, will he, Jack?” 

“Not he, ma’am. Leastways he won’t go for to 
do it.” 

“I know as much as that myself. What do you 
mean ? ’ ’ 

“I mean he’s as little likely to do it as the oldest 
man in the stable. How’s the gov’nor to-day, 
ma’am?” 

“A good deal better, thank you,” she answered, 
closing the window in some fear lest her husband 
should have been made anxious by the news of 
Diamond’s expedition. He knew pretty well, how¬ 
ever, what his boy was capable of, and although not 
quite easy was less anxious than his mother. But 
as the evening drew on, the anxiety of both of them 
increased, and every sound of wheels made his 
father raise himself in his bed, and his mother peep 
out of the window. 

Diamond had resolved to go straight to the cab- 
200 


ANOTHER EARLY BIRD 


stand where he was best known, and never to crawl 
for fear of getting annoyed by idlers. Before he 
got across Oxford Street, however, he was hailed 
by a man who wanted to catch a train, and was in 
too great a hurry to think about the driver. Hav¬ 
ing carried him to King’s Cross in good time, and 
got a good fare in return, he set off again in great 
spirits, and reached the stand in safety. He was 
the first there after all. 

As the men arrived they all greeted him kindly, 
and inquired after his father. 

‘ 4 Ain’t you afraid of the old ’oss running away 
with you?” asked one. 

“No, he wouldn’t run away with me,” answered 
Diamond. “He knows I’m getting the shillings for 
father. Or if he did he would only run home.” 

“Well, you’re a plucky one, for all your girl’s 
looks!” said the man; “and I wish ye luck.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Diamond. “I’ll do what 
I can. I came to the old place, you see, because I 
knew you would let me have my turn here.” 

In the course of the day one man did try to cut him 
out, but he was a stranger; and the shout the rest 
of them raised let him see it would not do, and made 
him so far ashamed besides, that he went away 
crawling. 

Once, in a block, a policeman came up to him, and 
asked him for his number. Diamond showed him 
his father’s badge, saying with a smile: 

“Father’s ill at home, and so I came out with the 
cab. There’s no fear of me. I can drive. Besides, 
the old horse could go alone.” 

201 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“ Just as well, I daresay. You’re a pair of ’em. 
But you are a rum ’un for a cabby—ain’t you now?” 
said the policeman. “I don’t know as I ought to let 
you go.” 

“I ain’t done nothing,” said Diamond. “It’s 
not my fault I’m no bigger. I’m big enough for 
my age.” 

“That’s where it is,” said the man. “You ain’t 
fit.” 

“How do you know that?” asked Diamond, with 
his usual smile, and turning his head like a little 
bird. 

“Why, how are you to get out of this ruck now, 
when it begins to move?” 

“Just you get up on the box,” said Diamond, 
“and I’ll show you. There, that van’s a-moving 
now. Jump up.” 

The policeman did as Diamond told him, and was 
soon satisfied that the little fellow could drive. 

“Well,” he said, as he got down again, “I don’t 
know as I should be right to interfere. Good luck 
to you, my little man!” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Diamond, and drove away. 

In a few minutes a gentleman hailed him. 

“Are you the driver of this cab?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” said Diamond, showing his badge, of 
which he was proud. 

“You’re the youngest cabman I ever saw. How 
am I to know you won’t break all my bones?” 

“I would rather break all my own,” said Dia¬ 
mond. “But if you’re afraid, never mind me; I 
shall soon get another fare.” 

202 


ANOTHER EARLY BIRD 


“1*11 risk it,” said the gentleman; and, opening 
the door himself, he jumped in. 

He was going a good distance, and soon found that 
Diamond got him over the ground well. Now when 
Diamond had only to go straight ahead, and had not 
to mind so much what he was about, his thoughts 
always turned to the riddle Mr. Raymond had set 
him; and this gentleman looked so clever that he 
fancied he must be able to read it for him. He had 
given up all hope of finding it out for himself, and 
he could not plague his father about it when he was 
ill. He had thought of the answer himself, but 
fancied it could not he the right one, for to see how 
it all fitted required some knowledge of physiology. 
So, when he reached the end of his journey, he got 
down very quickly, and with his head just looking 
in at the window, said, as the gentleman gathered 
his gloves and newspapers: 

“Please, sir, can you tell me the meaning of a 
riddle?” 

“You must tell me the riddle first,” answered the 
gentleman, amused. 

Diamond repeated the riddle. 

“Oh! that’s easy enough,” he returned. “It’s a 
tree.” 

“Well, it ain’t got no mouth, sure enough; but 
how then does it eat all day long?” 

“It sucks in its food through the tiniest holes in 
its leaves,” he answered. “Its breath is its food. 
And it can’t do it except in the daylight.” 

“Thank you, sir, thank you,” returned Diamond. 
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find it out myself; Mr. Ray¬ 
mond would have been better pleased with me.” 


203 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“But you needn’t tell him any one told you.” 

Diamond gave him a stare which came from the 
very back of the north wind, where that kind of thing 
is unknown. 

“That would be cheating,” he said at last. 

“Ain’t you a cabby, then?” 

“Cabbies don’t cheat.” 

“Don’t they? I am of a different opinion.” 

“I’m sure my father don’t.” 

“What’s your fare, young innocent?” 

“Well, I think the distance is a good deal over 
three miles—that’s two shillings. Only father says 
sixpence a mile is too little, though we can’t ask for 
more.” 

“You’re a deep one. But I think you’re wrong. 
It’s over four miles—not much, but it is.” 

“Then that’s half-a-crown,” said Diamond. 

“Well, here’s three shillings. Will that do?” 

“Thank you kindly, sir. I’ll tell my father how 
good you were to me—first to tell me my riddle, then 
to put me right about the distance, and then to give 
me sixpence over. It’ll help father to get well 
again, it will. ’ ’ 

“I hope it may, my man. I shouldn’t wonder if 
you’re as good as you look, after all.” 

As Diamond returned, he drew up at a stand he 
had never been on before: it was time to give Dia¬ 
mond his bag of chopped beans and oats. The men 
got about him, and began to chaff him. He took it 
all good-humouredly, until one of them, who was 
an ill-conditioned fellow, began to tease old Diamond 
by poking him roughly in the ribs, and making gen- 
204 


ANOTHER EARLY BIRD 


eral game of him. That he could not bear, and 
the tears came in his eyes. He undid the nose-bag, 
put it in the hoot, and was just going to mount and 
drive away, when the fellow interfered, and would 
not let him get up. Diamond endeavoured to per¬ 
suade him, and was very civil, but he would have 
his fun out of him, as he said. In a few minutes a 
group of idle hoys had assembled, and Diamond 
found himself in a very uncomfortable position. 
Another cab drew up at the stand, and the driver 
got off and approached the assemblage. 

“What’s up here?” he asked, and Diamond knew 
the voice. It was that of the drunken cabman. 

“Do you see this young oyster? He pretends to 
drive a cab,” said his enemy. 

“Yes, I do see him. And I sees you too. You’d 
better leave him alone. He ain’t no oyster. He’s 
a angel come down on his own business. You be 
off, or I ’ll be nearer you than quite agreeable. ’ ’ 

The drunken cabman was a tall, stout man, who 
did not look one to take liberties with. 

“Oh! if he’s a friend of yours,” said the other, 
drawing back. 

Diamond got out the nose-bag again. Old Dia¬ 
mond should have his feed out now. 

“Yes, he is a friend o’ mine. One o’ the best I 
ever had. It’s a pity he ain’t a friend o’ yourn. 
You’d be the better for it, but it ain’t no fault of 
hisn.” 

When Diamond went home at night, he carried 
with him one pound one shilling and sixpence, be¬ 
sides a few coppers extra, which had followed some 
of the fares. 


205 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

His mother had got very anxious indeed—so much 
so that she was almost afraid, when she did hear the 
sound of his cab, to go and look, lest she should be 
yet again disappointed, and should break down be¬ 
fore her husband. But there was the old horse, and 
there was the cab all right, and there was Diamond 
on the box, his pale face looking triumphant as a 
full moon in the twilight. 

When he drew up at the stable-door, Jack came 
out, and after a good many friendly questions and 
congratulations, said: 

“You go in to your mother, Diamond. I’ll put up 
the old ’oss. I’ll take care on him. He do deserve 
some small attention, he do.” 

“Thank you, Jack,” said Diamond, and bounded 
into the house, and into the arms of his mother, who 
was waiting him at the top of the stair. 

The poor, anxious woman led him into his own 
room, sat down on his bed, took him on her lap as if 
he had been a baby, and cried. 

“How’s father?” asked Diamond, almost afraid 
to ask. 

“Better, my child,” she answered, “but uneasy 
about you, my dear.” 

“Didn’t you tell him I was the early bird gone 
out to catch the worm?” 

“That was what put it in your head, was it, you 
monkey?” said his mother, beginning to get better. 

“That or something else,” answered Diamond, 
so very quietly that his mother held his head back 
and stared in his face. 

“Well! of all the children!” she said, and said no 
more. 


206 


ANOTHER EARLY BIRD 


“And here’s my worm,” resumed Diamond. 

But to see her face as he poured the shillings and 
sixpences and pence into her lap! She burst out 
crying a second time, and ran with the money to her 
husband. 

And how pleased he was! It did him no end of 
good. But while he was counting the coins, Dia¬ 
mond turned to baby, who was lying awake in his 
cradle, sucking his precious thumb, and took him up, 
saying: 

“Baby, baby! I haven’t seen you for a whole 
year.” 

And then he began to sing to him as usual. And 
what he sang was this, for he was too happy either 
to make a song of his own or to sing sense. It 
was one out of Mr. Raymond’s book. 

THE TRUE HISTORY OF THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE 

Hey, diddle, diddle! 

The cat and the fiddle! 

He played such a merry tune, 

That the cow went mad 
With the pleasure she had, 

And jumped right over the moon. 

But then, don’t you see? 

Before that could be, 

The moon had come down and listened. 

The little dog hearkened, 

So loud that he barkened, 

“ There’s nothing like it, there isn’t.” 


Hey, diddle, diddle! 

Went the cat and the fiddle, 
Hey diddle, diddle, dee, dee! 
The dog laughed at the sport 
Till his cough cut him short, 

207 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


It was hey diddle, diddle, oh me! 

And back came the cow 
With a merry, merry low, 

For she’d humbled the man in the moon. 
The dish got excited, 

The spoon was delighted, 

And the dish waltzed away with the spoon. 

But the man in the moon, 

Coming back too soon 
From the famous town of Norwich, 

Caught up the dish, 

Said, “ It’s just what I wish 
To hold my cold plum-porridge! ” 

Gave the cow a rat-tat. 

Flung water on the cat, 

And sent him away like a rocket. 

Said, “ O Moon there you are! ” 

Got into her car. 

And went off with the spoon in his pocket 

Hey ho! diddle, diddle! 

The wet cat and wet fiddle, 

They made such a caterwauling, 

That the cow in a fright 
Stood bolt upright 
Bellowing now, and bawling; 

And the dog on his tail, 

Stretched his neck with a wail. 

But “ Ho! ho! ” said the man in the moon— 
“ No more in the South 
Shall I burn my mouth, 

For I’ve found a dish and a spoon.” 


XXV. 

DIAMOND’S DREAM 



'5?f 


HERE, baby!” said Diamond; 
“I’m so happy that I can only 
sing nonsense. Oh, father, think 
if you had been a poor man, 
and hadn’t had a cab and old 
Diamond! What should I have done ?’ 9 

“I don’t know indeed what you could have done,” 
said his father from the bed. 

“We should have all starved, my precious Dia¬ 
mond,” said his mother, whose pride in her boy 
was even greater than her joy in the shillings. Both 
of them together made her heart ache, for pleasure 
can do that as well as pain. 

“Oh no! we shouldn’t,” said Diamond. “I could 
have taken Name’s crossing till she came back; and 
then the money, instead of going for Old Sal’s gin, 
would have gone for father’s beef-tea. I wonder 
what Nanny will do when she gets well again. 
Somebody else will be sure to have taken the cross¬ 
ing by that time. I wonder if she will fight for it, 

14 209 











AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


and whether I shall have to help her. I won’t 
bother my head about that. Time enough yet! Hey 
diddle! hey diddle! hey diddle diddle! I wonder 
whether Mr. Raymond would take me to see Nanny. 
Hey diddle! hey diddle! hey diddle diddle! The 
baby and fiddle! 0, mother, I’m such a silly! But 

I can’t help it. I wish I could think of something 
else, but there’s nothing will come into my head but 
hey diddle diddle! the cat and the fiddle! I wonder 
what the angels do—when they’re extra happy, you 
know—when they’ve been driving cabs all day and 
taking home the money to their mothers. Do you 
think they ever sing nonsense, mother ! ’ ’ 

“I daresay they’ve got their own sort of it,” 
answered his mother, “else they wouldn’t be like 
other people.” 

She was thinking more of her twenty-one shill¬ 
ings and sixpence, and of the nice dinner she would 
get for her sick husband next day, than of the angels 
and their nonsense, when she said it. But Diamond 
found her answer all right. 

“Yes, to be sure,” he replied. “They wouldn’t 
be like other people if they hadn’t their nonsense 
sometimes. But it must be very pretty nonsense, 
and not like that silly hey diddle diddle! the cat and 
the fiddle! I wish I could get it out of my head. 
I wonder what the angels’ nonsense is like. Non¬ 
sense is a very good thing, ain’t it, mother!—a little 
of it now and then; more of it for baby, and not so 
much for grown people like cabmen and their moth¬ 
ers! It’s like the pepper and salt that goes in the 
soup—that’s it—isn’t it, mother! There’s baby 
210 


DIAMOND’S DREAM 


fast asleep! Oh, what a nonsense baby it is—to 
sleep so much! Shall I put him down, motherf” 

Diamond chattered away. What rose in his 
happy little heart ran out of his mouth, and did his 
father and mother good. When he went to bed, 
which he did early, being more tired, as you may 
suppose, than usual, he was still thinking what the 
nonsense could be like which the angels sang when 
they were too happy to sing sense. But before com¬ 
ing to any conclusion he fell fast asleep. And no 
wonder, for it must be acknowledged a difficult 
question. 

That night he had a very curious dream which I 
think my readers would like to have told them. 
They would, at least, if they are as fond of nice 
dreams as I am, and don’t have enough of them of 
their own. 

He dreamed that he was running about in the twi¬ 
light in the old garden. He thought he was waiting 
for North Wind, but she did not come. So he would 
run down to the back gate, and see if she were there. 
He ran and ran. It was a good long garden out of 
his dream, but in his dream it had grown so long 
and spread out so wide that the gate he wanted was 
nowhere. He ran and ran, but instead of coming to 
the gate found himself in a beautiful country, not 
like any country he had ever been in before. There 
were no trees of any size; nothing bigger in fact 
than hawthorns, which were full of may-blossom. 
The place in which they grew was wild and dry, 
mostly covered with grass, but having patches of 
heath. It extended on every side as far as he could 
211 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


see. But although it was so wild, yet wherever in 
an ordinary heath you might have expected furze 
bushes, or holly, or broom, there grew roses—wild 
and rare—all kinds. On every side, far and near, 
roses were glowing. There too was the gum-cistus, 
whose flowers fall every night and come again the 
next morning, lilacs and syringas and laburnums, 
and many shrubs besides, of which he did not know 
the names; but the roses were everywhere. He wan¬ 
dered on and on, wondering when it would come to 
an end. It was of no use going back, for there was 
no house to be seen anywhere. But he was not 
frightened, for you know Diamond was used to 
things that were rather out of the way. He threw 
himself down under a rose-bush, and fell asleep. 

He woke, not out of his dream, but into it, think¬ 
ing he heard a child’s voice, calling “Diamond, Dia¬ 
mond!” He jumped up, but all was still about him. 
The rose-bushes were pouring out their odours in 
clouds. He could see the scent like mists of the 
same colour as the rose, issuing like a slow fountain 
and spreading in the air till it joined the thin rosy 
vapour which hung over all the wilderness. But 
again came the voice calling him, and it seemed to 
come from over his head. He looked up, but saw 
only the deep blue sky full of stars—more brilliant, 
however, than he had seen them before; and both sky 
and stars looked nearer to the earth. 

While he gazed up, again he heard the cry. At 
the same moment he saw one of the biggest stars 
over his head give a kind of twinkle and jump, as 
if it went out and came in again. He threw himself 
212 


DIAMOND S DREAM 


on his back, and fixed his eyes upon it. Nor had he 
gazed long before it went out, leaving something like 
a scar in the blue. But as he went on gazing he saw 
a face where the star had been—a merry face, with 
bright eyes. The eyes appeared not only to see 
Diamond, but to know that Diamond had caught 
sight of them, for the face withdrew the same mo¬ 
ment. Again came the voice, calling “Diamond, 
Diamond;” and in jumped the star to its place. 

Diamond called as loud as he could, right up into 
the sky: 

4 ‘ Here ’s Diamond, down below you. What do you 
want him to do?” 

The next instant many of the stars round about 
that one went out, and many voices shouted from 
the sky,— 

“Come up; come up. We’re so jolly! Diamond! 
Diamond! ’ ’ 

This was followed by a peal of the merriest, kind¬ 
liest laughter, and all the stars jumped into their 
places again. 

‘ ‘ How am I to come up ? * ’ shouted Diamond. 

“Go round the rose-bush. It’s got its foot in it,” 
said the first voice. 

Diamond got up at once, and walked to the other 
side of the rose-bush. 

There he found what seemed the very opposite of 
what he wanted—a stair down into the earth. It 
was of turf and moss. It did not seem to promise 
well for getting into the sky, but Diamond had 
learned to look through the look of things. The 
voice must have meant that he was to go down this 


213 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

stair; and down this stair Diamond went, without 
waiting to think more about it. 

It was such a nice stair, so cool and soft—all the 
sides as well as the steps grown with moss and grass 
and ferns! Down and down Diamond went—a long 
way, until at last he heard the gurgling and plash¬ 
ing of a little stream; nor had he gone much farther 
before he met it—yes, met it coming up the stairs to 
meet him, running up just as naturally as if it had 
been doing the other thing. Neither was Diamond 
in the least surprised to see it pitching itself from 
one step to another as it climbed towards him: he 
never thought it was odd—and no more it was, there. 
It would have been odd here. It made a merry tune 
as it came, and its voice was like the laughter he had 
heard from the sky. This appeared promising; and 
he went on, down and down the stair, and up and up 
the stream, till at last he came where it hurried out 
from under a stone, and the stair stopped altogether. 
And as the stream bubbled up, the stone shook and 
swayed with its force; and Diamond thought he 
would try to lift it. Lightly it rose to his hand, 
forced up by the stream from below; and, by what 
would have seemed an unaccountable perversion of 
things had he been awake, threatened to come tumb¬ 
ling upon his head. But he avoided it, and when it 
fell, got upon it. He now saw that the opening 
through which the water came pouring in was over 
his head, and with the help of the stone he scrambled 
out by it, and found himself on the side of a grassy 
hill which rounded away from him in every direc¬ 
tion, and down which came the brook which vanished 


214 


DIAMOND’S DREAM 


in the hole. But scarcely had he noticed so much 
as this before a merry shouting and laughter burst 
upon him, and a number of naked little boys came 
running, every one eager to get to him first. At 
the shoulders of each fluttered two little wings, 
which were of no use for flying, as they were mere 
buds; only being made for it they could not help 
fluttering as if they were flying. Just as the fore¬ 
most of the troop reached him, one or two of them 
fell, and the rest with shouts of laughter came 
tumbling over them till they heaped up a mound 
of struggling merriment. One after another they 
extricated themselves, and each as he got free threw 
his arms round Diamond and kissed him. Dia¬ 
mond’s heart was ready to melt within him from 
clear delight. When they had all embraced him,— 

“Now let us have some fun,” cried one, and with 
a shout they all scampered hither and thither, and 
played the wildest gambols on the grassy slopes. 
They kept constantly coming back to Diamond, how¬ 
ever, as the centre of their enjoyment, rejoicing over 
him as if they had found a lost playmate. 

There was a wind on the hillside which blew like 
the very embodiment of living gladness. It blew 
into Diamond’s heart, and made him so happy that 
he was forced to sit down and cry. 

“Now let’s go and dig for stars,” said one who 
seemed to be the captain of the troop. 

They all scurried away, but soon returned, one 
after another, each with a pickaxe on his shoulder 
and a spade in his hand. As soon as they were 
gathered, the captain led them in a straight line to 
215 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


another part of the hill. Diamond rose and fol¬ 
lowed. 

4 4 Here is where we begin our lesson for to-night/ ’ 
he said. “Scatter and dig.” 

There was no more fun. Each went by himself, 
walking slowly with bent shoulders and his eyes 
fixed on the ground. Every now and then one would 
stop, kneel down, and look intently, feeling with his 
hands and parting the grass. One would get up 
and walk on again, another spring to his feet, catch 
eagerly at his pickaxe and strike it into the ground 
once and again, then throw it aside, snatch up his 
spade, and commence digging at the loosened earth. 
Now one would sorrowfully shovel the earth into the 
hole again, trample it down with his little bare white 
feet, and walk on. But another would give a joy¬ 
ful shout, and after much tugging and loosening 
would draw from the hole a lump as big as his head, 
or no bigger than his fist; when the under side of it 
would pour such a blaze of golden or bluish light 
into Diamond’s eyes that he was quite dazzled. 
Gold and blue were the commoner colours: the jubi¬ 
lation was greater over red or green or purple. 
And every' time a star was dug up all the little 
angels dropped their tools and crowded about it, 
shouting and dancing and fluttering their wing-buds. 

When they had examined it well, they would kneel 
down one after the other and peep through the hole; 
but they always stood back to give Diamond the first 
look. All that Diamond could report, however, was, 
that through the star-holes he saw a great many 
things and places and people he knew quite well, 
216 


DIAMOND’S DREAM 


only somehow they were different—there was some¬ 
thing marvellous about them—he could not tell what. 
Every time he rose from looking through a star-hole, 
he felt as if his heart would break for joy; and he 
said that if he had not cried, he did not know what 
would have become of him. 

As soon as all had looked, the star was carefully 
fitted in again, a little mould was strewn over it, 
and the rest of the heap left as a sign that the star 
had been discovered. 

At length one dug up a small star of a most lovely 
colour—a colour Diamond had never seen before. 
The moment the angel saw what it was, instead of 
showing it about, he handed it to one of his neigh¬ 
bours, and seated himself on the edge of the hole, 
saying: 

“This will do for me. Good-bye. Ihn off.” 

They crowded about him, hugging and kissing 
him; then stood back with a solemn stillness, their 
wings lying close to their shoulders. The little fel¬ 
low looked round on them once with a smile, and 
then shot himself headlong through the star-hole. 
Diamond, as privileged, threw himself on the ground 
to peep after him, but he saw nothing. 

“It’s no use,” said the captain. “I never saw 
anything more of one that went that way.” 

“His wings can’t be much use,” said Diamond, 
concerned and fearful, yet comforted by the calm 
looks of the rest. 

“That’s true,” said the captain. “He’s lost them 
by this time. They all do that go that way. You 
haven’t got any, you see.” 

217 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

•' ‘ No, ’’ said Diamond. 4 1 I never did have any.’ 9 

“Oh! didn’t yon!” said the captain. 

* 4 Some people say,” he added, after a pause, 
“that they come again. I don’t know. I’ve never 
found the colour I care about myself. I suppose 
I shall some day.” 

Then they looked again at the star, put it carefully 
into its hole, danced round it and over it—but 
solemnly, and called it by the name of the finder. 

ii Will you know it again!” asked Diamond. 

“Oh yes. We never forget a star that’s been 
made a door of.” 

Then they went on with their searching and 
digging. 

Diamond having neither pickaxe nor spade, had 
the more time to think. 

“I don’t see any little girls,” he said at last. 

The captain stopped his shovelling, leaned on his 
spade, rubbed his forehead thoughtfully with his 
left hand—the little angels were all left-handed— 
repeated the words “little girls,” and then, as if 
a thought had struck him, resumed his work, 
saying— 

“I think I know what you mean. I’ve never seen 
any of them, of course; but I suppose that’s the sort 
you mean. I’m told—but mind I don’t say it is so, 
for I don’t know—that when we fall asleep, a troop 
of angels very like ourselves, only quite different, 
goes round to all the stars we have discovered, and 
discovers them after us. I suppose with our shovel¬ 
ling and handling we spoil them a bit; and I dare¬ 
say the clouds that come up from below make them 
smoky and dull sometimes. They say—mind, I say 
218 


DIAMOND S DREAM 


they say —these other angels take them out one by 
one, and pass each round as we do, and breathe over 
it, and rub it with their white hands, which are softer 
than onrs, because they don’t do any pick-and-spade 
work, and smile at it, and put it in again: and that 
is what keeps them from growing dark.” 

“How jolly!” thought Diamond. “I should like 
to see them at their work too.—When do you go to 
sleep?” he asked the captain. 

“When we grow sleepy,” answered the captain. 
“They do say—but mind I say they say —that it is 
when those others—what do you call them? I don’t 
know if that is their name; I am only guessing that 
may be the sort you mean—when they are on their 
rounds and come near any troop of us we fall asleep. 
They live on the west side of the hill. None of us 
have ever been to the top of it yet. ’ ’ 

Even as he spoke, he dropped his spade. He 
tumbled down beside it, and lay fast asleep. One 
after the other each of the troop dropped his pick¬ 
axe or shovel from his listless hands, and lay fast 
asleep by his work. 

“Ah!” thought Diamond to himself, with delight, 
“now the girl-angels are coming, and I, not being 
an angel, shall not fall asleep like the rest, and I 
shall see the girl-angels. ” 

But the same moment he felt himself growing 
sleepy. He struggled hard with the invading power. 
He put up his fingers to his eyelids and pulled them 
open. But it was of no use. He thought he saw a 
glimmer of pale rosy light far up the green hill, and 
ceased to know. 

When he awoke, all the angels were starting up 

219 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


wide awake too. He expected to see them lift their 
tools, but no, the time for play had come. They 
looked happier than ever, and each began to sing 
where he stood. He had not heard them sing before. 

“Now,” he thought, “I shall know what kind of 
nonsense the angels sing when they are merry. 
They don’t drive cabs, I see, but they dig for stars, 
and they work hard enough to be merry after it. ’ ’ 
And he did hear some of the angels’ nonsense; 
for if it was all sense to them, it had only just as 
much sense to Diamond as made good nonsense of 
it. He tried hard to set it down in his mind, listen¬ 
ing as closely as he could, now to one, now to an¬ 
other, and now to all together. But while they were 
yet singing he began, to his dismay, to find that he 
was coming awake—faster and faster. And as he 
came awake, he found that, for all the goodness of 
his memory, verse after verse of the angel’s non¬ 
sense vanished from it. He always thought he 
could keep the last, but as the next began he lost 
the one before it, and at length awoke, struggling to 
keep hold of the last verse of all. He felt as if the 
effort to keep from forgetting that one verse of the 
vanishing song nearly killed him. And yet by the 
time he was wide awake he could not be sure of that 
even. It was something like this: 

White hands of whiteness 
Wash the stars’ faces, 

Till glitter, glitter, glit, goes their brightness 
Down to poor places. 

This, however, was so near sense that he thought it 
could not be really what they did sing. 

220 


XXVI. 


DIAMOND TAKES A FARE THE 
WRONG WAY RIGHT 



Tr^3^|]r|Trr ^ • S 

- f^'EE next morning Diamond was 

up almost as early as before. 
He had nothing to fear from his 



mother now, and made no secret 
—of what he was about. By the 


time he reached the stable, several of the men were 
there. They asked him a good many questions as 
to his luck the day before, and he told them all they 
wanted to know. But when he proceeded to harness 
the old horse, they pushed him aside with rough 
kindness, called him a baby, and began to do it all 
for him. So Diamond ran in and had another 
mouthful of tea and bread and butter; and although 
he had never been so tired as he was the night be¬ 
fore, he started quite fresh this morning. It was a 
cloudy day, and the wind blew hard from the north— 
so hard sometimes that, perched on the box with just 
his toes touching the ground, Diamond wished that 
he had some kind of strap to fasten himself down 


221 











AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

with lest he should be blown away. But he did not 
really mind it. 

His head was full of the dream he had dreamed; 
but it did not make him neglect his work, for his 
work was not to dig stars but to drive old Diamond 
and pick up fares. There are not many people who 
can think about beautiful things and do common 
work at the same time. But then there are not many 
people who have been to the back of the north wind. 

There was not much business doing. And Dia¬ 
mond felt rather cold, notwithstanding his mother 
had herself put on his comforter and helped him 
with his greatcoat. But he was too well aware of 
his dignity to get inside his cab as some do. A 
cabman ought to be above minding the weather—at 
least so Diamond thought. At length he was called 
to a neighbouring house, where a young woman with 
a heavy box had to be taken to Wapping for a coast- 
steamer. 

He did not find it at all pleasant, so far east and so 
near the river; for the roughs were in great force. 
However, there being no block, not even in Nightin¬ 
gale Lane, he reached the entrance of the wharf, 
and set down his passengers without annoyance. 
But as he turned to go back, some idlers, not content 
with chaffing him, showed a mind to the fare the 
young woman had given him. They were just pull¬ 
ing him off the box, and Diamond was shouting for 
the police, when a pale-faced man, in very shabby 
clothes, but with the look of a gentleman somewhere 
about him, came up, and making good use of his 
stick, drove them off. 


222 


A FARE THE WRONG WAY RIGHT 

“Now, my little man,” lie said, “get on while you 
can. Don’t lose any time. This is not a place for 
you. ’’ 

But Diamond was not in the habit of thinking only 
of himself. He saw that his new friend looked 
weary, if not ill, and very poor. 

“Won’t you jump in, sir?” he said. “I will take 
you wherever you like.” 

“Thank you, my man; but I have no money; so 
I can’t.” 

“Oh! I don’t want any money. I shall be much 
happier if you will get in. You have saved me all 
I had. I owe you a lift, sir.” 

“Which way are you going?” 

“To Charing Cross; hut I don’t mind where I go.” 

“Well, I am very tired. If you will take me to 
Charing Cross, I shall be greatly obliged to you. I 
have walked from Gravesend, and had hardly a 
penny left to get through the tunnel.” 

So saying, he opened the door and got in, and 
Diamond drove away. 

But as he drove, he could not help fancying he 
had seen the gentleman—for Diamond knew he was 
a gentleman—before. Do all he could, however, 
he could not recall where or when. Meantime his 
fare, if we may call him such, seeing he was to pay 
nothing, whom the relief of being carried had made 
less and less inclined to carry himself, had been 
turning over things in his mind, and, as they passed 
the Mint, called to Diamond, who stopped his horse, 
got down, and went to the window. 

“If you didn’t mind taking me to Chiswick, 

223 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


I should be able to pay you when we got there. It’s 
a long way, but you shall have the whole fare from 
the Docks—and something over.” 

“Very well, sir,” said Diamond. “I shall be 
most happy.” 

He was just clambering up again, when the gen¬ 
tleman put his head out of the window and said— 

“It’s The Wilderness—Mr. Coleman’s place; but 
I’ll direct you when we come into the neighbour¬ 
hood.” 

It flashed upon Diamond who he was. But he got 
upon his box to arrange his thoughts before making 
any reply. 

The gentleman was Mr. Evans, to whom Miss 
Coleman was to have been married, and Diamond 
had seen him several times with her in the garden. 
I have said that he had not behaved very well to 
Miss Coleman. He had put off their marriage more 
than once in a cowardly fashion, merely because he 
was ashamed to marry upon a small income, and live 
in a humble way. When a man thinks of what 
people will say in such a case, he may love, but his 
love is but a poor affair. Mr. Coleman took him 
into the firm as a junior partner, and it was in a 
measure through his influence that he entered upon 
those speculations which ruined him. So his love 
had not been a blessing. The ship which North 
Wind had sunk was their last venture, and Mr. 
Evans had gone out with it in the hope of turning 
its cargo to the best advantage. He was one of the 
single boat-load which managed to reach a desert 
island, and he had gone through a great many 

224 


A FARE THE WRONG WAY RIGHT 


hardships and sufferings since then. But he was 
not past being taught, and his troubles had done him 
no end of good, for they had made him doubt himself, 
and begin to think, so that he had come to see that he 
‘had been foolish as well as wicked. For, if he had 
had Miss Coleman with him in the desert island, 
to build her a hut, and hunt for her food, and make 
clothes for her, he would have thought himself the 
most fortunate of men; and when he was at home, 
he would not marry till he could afford a man¬ 
servant. Before he got home again, he had even 
begun to understand that no man can make haste 
to be rich without going against the will of God, in 
which case it is the one frightful thing to be suc¬ 
cessful. So he had come back a more humble man, 
and longing to ask Miss Coleman to forgive him. 
But he had no idea what ruin had fallen upon them, 
for he had never made himself thoroughly ac¬ 
quainted with the firm’s affairs. Few speculative 
people do know their own affairs. Hence he never 
doubted he should find matters much as he left them, 
and expected to see them all at The Wilderness as 
before. But if he had not fallen in with Diamond, 
he would not have thought of going there first. 

What was Diamond to do? He had heard his 
father and mother drop some remarks concerning 
Mr. Evans which made him doubtful of him. He 
understood that he had not been so considerate as 
he might have been. So he went rather slowly till 
he should make up his mind. It was, of course, of 
no use to drive Mr. Evans to Chiswick. But if he 
should tell him what had befallen them, and where 


15 


225 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


they lived now, he might put off going to see them, 
and he was certain that Miss Coleman, at least, must 
want very much to see Mr. Evans. He was pretty 
sure also that the best thing in any case was to 
bring them together, and let them set matters right 
for themselves. 

The moment he came to this conclusion, he 
changed his course from westward to northward, 
and went straight for Mr. Coleman’s poor little 
house in Hoxton. Mr. Evans was too tired and 
too much occupied with his thoughts to take the least 
notice of the streets they passed through, and had 
no suspicion, therefore, of the change of direction. 

By this time the wind had increased almost to a 
hurricane, and as they had often to head it, it was no 
joke for either of the Diamonds. The distance, 
however, was not great. Before they reached the 
street where Mr. Coleman lived it blew so tremen¬ 
dously, that when Miss Coleman, who was going 
out a little way, opened the door, it dashed against 
the wall with such a hang, that she was afraid to 
venture, and went in again. In five minutes after, 
Diamond drew up at the door. As soon as he had 
entered the street, however, the wind blew right 
behind them, and when he pulled up, old Diamond 
had so much ado to stop the cab against it, that the 
breeching broke. Young Diamond jumped off his 
box, knocked loudly at the door, then turned to the 
cab and said—before Mr. Evans had quite begun 
to think something must be amiss: 

“ Please, sir, my harness has given way. Would 
you mind stepping in here for a few minutes? 


226 


A FARE THE WRONG WAY RIGHT 


They’re friends of mine. I’ll take you where you 
like after I’ve got it mended. I shan’t be many 
minutes, hut you can’t stand in this wind.” 

Half stupid with fatigue and want of food, Mr. 
Evans yielded to the boy’s suggestion, and walked 
in at the door which the maid held with difficulty 
against the wind. She took Mr. Evans for a visitor, 
as indeed he was, and showed him into the room on 
the ground-floor. Diamond, who had followed into 
the hall, whispered to her as she closed the door— 

i ‘ Tell Miss Coleman. It’s Miss Coleman he wants 
to see.” 

“I don’t know,” said the maid.—“He don’t look 
much like a gentleman.” 

“He is, though; and I know him, and so does Miss 
Coleman.” 

The maid could not but remember Diamond, hav¬ 
ing seen him when he and his father brought the 
ladies home. So she believed him, and went to do 
what he told her. 

What passed in the little parlour when Miss Cole¬ 
man came down does not belong to my story, which 
is all about Diamond. If he had known that Miss 
Coleman thought Mr. Evans was dead, perhaps he 
would have managed it differently. There was a 
cry and a running to and fro in the house, and then 
all was quiet again. 

Almost as soon as Mr. Evans went in, the wind 
began to cease, and was now still. Diamond found 
that by making the breeching just a little tighter 
than was quite comfortable for the old horse he 
could do very well for the present; and, thinking 
227 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

it better to let him have his bag in this quiet place, 
he sat on the box till the old horse should have eaten 
his dinner. In a little while Mr. Evans came out, 
and asked him to come in. Diamond obeyed, and to 
his delight Miss Coleman put her arms round him 
and kissed him, and there was payment for him! 
not to mention the five precious shillings she gave 
him, which he could not refuse because his mother 
wanted them so much at home for his father. He 
left them nearly as happy as they were themselves. 

The rest of the day he did better, and, although he 
had not so much to take home as the day before, yet 
on the whole the result was satisfactory. And what 
a story he had to tell his father and mother about 
his adventures, and how he had done, and what was 
the result! They asked him such a multitude of 
questions! some of which he could answer, and 
some of which he could not answer; and his father 
seemed ever so much better from finding that his 
boy was already not only useful to his family but 
useful to other people, and quite taking his place as 
a man who judged what was wise, and did work 
worth doing. 

For a fortnight Diamond went on driving his cab, 
and keeping his family. He had begun to be known 
about some parts of London, and people would pre¬ 
fer taking his cab because they liked what they heard 
of him. One gentleman who lived near the mews, 
engaged him to carry him to the City every morning 
at a certain hour; and Diamond was punctual as 
clockwork—though to effect that, required a good 
deal of care, for his father’s watch was not much to 


228 



m 




<I3Ef022> 




. 


FOR A FORTNIGHT DIAMOND WENT ON DRIVING HIS CAB 














A FARE THE WRONG WAY RIGHT 


be depended on, and had to be watched itself by the 
clock of St. George’s church. Between the two, 
however, he did make a success of it. 

After that fortnight, his father was able to go 
out again. Then Diamond went to make inquiries 
about Nanny, and this led to something else. 






XXVII. 

THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL 



^HE first day his father resumed 
his work, Diamond went with 
him as usual. In the afternoon, 
however, his father, having 
taken a fare to the neighbour¬ 
hood, went home, and Diamond drove the cab the 
rest of the day. It was hard for old Diamond to 
do all the work, but they could not afford to have 
another horse. They contrived to save him as much 
as possible, and fed him well, and he did bravely. 

The next morning his father was so much stronger 
that Diamond thought he might go and ask Mr. Ray¬ 
mond to take him to see Nanny. He found him at 
home. His servant had grown friendly by this time, 
and showed him in without any cross-questioning. 
Mr. Raymond received him with his usual kindness, 
consented at once, and walked with him to the Hos¬ 
pital, which was close at hand. It was a comfortable 
old-fashioned house, built in the reign of Queen 
Anne, and in her day, no doubt, inhabited by rich 
230 


















THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL 

and fashionable people: now it was a home for poor 
sick children, who were carefully tended for love’s 
sake. There are regions in London where a hos¬ 
pital in every other street might be full of such chil¬ 
dren, whose fathers and mothers are dead, or unable 
to take care of them. 

When Diamond followed Mr. Raymond into the 
room where those children who had got over the 
worst of their illness and were growing better lay, 
he saw a number of little iron bedsteads, with their 
heads to the walls, and in every one of them a child, 
whose face was a story in itself. In some, health 
had begun to appear in a tinge upon the cheeks, and 
a doubtful brightness in the eyes, just as out of the 
cold dreary winter the spring comes in blushing 
buds and bright crocuses. In others there were 
more of the signs of winter left. Their faces re¬ 
minded you of snow and keen cutting winds, more 
than of sunshine and soft breezes and butterflies; 
but even in them the signs of suffering told that the 
suffering was less, and that if the spring-time had 
but arrived, it had yet arrived. 

Diamond looked all round, but could see no 
Nanny. He turned to Mr. Raymond with a question 
in his eyes. 

“Well?” said Mr. Raymond. 

“Nanny’s not here,” said Diamond. 

“Oh, yes, she is.” 

“I don’t see her.” 

“I do, though. There she is.” 

He pointed to a bed right in front of where Dia¬ 
mond was standing. 


231 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“That’s not Nanny,” he said. 

‘ 4 It is Nanny. I have seen her many times since 
you have. Illness makes a great difference.” 

4 ‘Why, that girl must have been to the back of the 
north wind! ’’ thought Diamond, but he said nothing, 
only stared; and as he stared, something of the old 
Nanny began to dawn through the face of the new 
Nanny. The old Nanny, though a good girl, and a 
friendly girl, had been rough, blunt in her speech, 
and dirty in her person. Her face would always 
have reminded one who had already been to the back 
of the north wind of something he had seen in the 
best of company, but it had been coarse notwith¬ 
standing, partly from the weather, partly from her 
living amongst low people, and partly from having 
to defend herself: now it was so sweet, and gentle, 
and refined, that she might have had a lady and 
gentleman for a father and mother. And Diamond 
could not help thinking of words which he had heard 
in the church the day before: ‘‘ Surely it is good to 
be afflicted;” or something like that. North Wind, 
somehow or other, must have had to do with her! 
She had grown from a rough girl into a gentle 
maiden. 

Mr. Raymond, however, was not surprised, for he 
was used to see such lovely changes—something like 
the change which passes upon the crawling, many¬ 
footed creature, when it turns sick and ill, and re¬ 
vives a butterfly, with two wings instead of many 
feet. Instead of her having to take care of herself, 
kind hands ministered to her, making her comfort¬ 
able and sweet and clean, soothing her aching head, 
232 


THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL 


and giving her cooling drink when she was thirsty; 
and kind eyes, the stars of the kingdom of heaven, 
had shone upon her; so that, what with the fire of 
the fever and the dew of tenderness, that which was 
coarse in her had melted away, and her whole face 
had grown so refined and sweet that Diamond did 
not know her. But as he gazed, the best of the old 
face, all the true and good part of it, that which was 
Nanny herself, dawned upon him, like the moon com¬ 
ing out of a cloud, until at length, instead of only 
believing Mr. Raymond that this was she, he saw 
for himself that it was Nanny indeed—very worn, 
but grown beautiful. 

He went up to her. She smiled. He had heard 
her laugh, but had never seen her smile before. 

44 Nanny, do you know me?” said Diamond. 

She only smiled again, as if the question was 
amusing. 

She was not likely to forget him; for although she 
did not yet know it was he who had got her there, 
she had dreamed of him often, and had talked much 
about him when delirious. Nor was it much won¬ 
der, for he was the only boy except Joe who had 
ever shown her kindness. 

Meantime Mr. Raymond was going from bed to 
bed, talking to the little people. Every one knew 
him, and every one was eager to have a look, and a 
smile, and a kind word from him. Diamond sat 
down on a stool at the head of Nanny’s bed. She 
laid her hand in his. No one else of her old ac¬ 
quaintance had been near her. 

Suddenly a little voice called aloud— 

233 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

44 Won’t Mr. Raymond tell us a story ?” 

“Oh, yes, please do! please do!” cried several 
little voices which also were stronger than the rest. 
For Mr. Raymond was in the habit of telling them 
a story when he went to see them, and they enjoyed 
it far more than the other nice things which the doc¬ 
tor permitted him to give them. 

“Very well,” said Mr. Raymond, “I will. What 
sort of a story shall it he V ’ 

“A true story,” said one little girl. 

“A fairy tale,” said a little boy. 

“Well,” said Mr. Raymond, “I suppose, as there 
is a difference, I may choose. I can’t think of any 
true story just at this moment, so I will tell you a 
sort of a fairy one.” 

“Oh, jolly!” exclaimed the little boy who had 
called out for a fairy tale. 

“It came into my head this morning as I got out of 
bed, ’ ’ continued Mr. Raymond; 4 4 and if it turns out 
pretty well, I will write it down, and get somebody 
to print it for me, and then you shall read it when 
you like.” 

44 Then nobody ever heard it before?” asked one 
older child. 

44 No, nobody.” 

4 4 Oh! ” exclaimed several, thinking it very grand 
to have the first telling; and I daresay there might 
be a peculiar freshness about it, because everything 
would be nearly as new to the story-teller himself 
as to the listeners. 

Some were only sitting up and some were lying 
down, so there could not be the same busy gathering, 

234 


THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL 


and bustling, and shifting to and fro with which chil¬ 
dren generally prepare themselves to hear a story; 
but their faces, and the turning of their heads, and 
many feeble exclamations of expected pleasure, 
showed that all such preparations were making 
within them. 

Mr. Kaymond stood in the middle of the room, 
that he might turn from side to side, and give each a 
share of seeing him. Diamond kept his place by 
Nanny’s side, with her hand in his. I do not know 
how much of Mr. Raymond’s story the smaller chil¬ 
dren understood; indeed, I don’t quite know how 
much there was in it to be understood, for in such 
a story every one has just to take what he can get. 
But they all listened with apparent satisfaction, and 
certainly with great attention. Mr. Raymond wrote 
it down afterwards, and here it is—somewhat altered 
no doubt, for a good story-teller tries to make his 
stories better every time he tells them. I cannot 
myself help thinking that he was somewhat indebted 
for this one to the old story of The Sleeping Beauty. 



XXVIII. 

LITTLE DAYLIGHT 



|0 house of any pretension to be 
called a palace is in the least 
worthy of the name, except it 
has a wood near it—very near 
"J it—and the nearer the better. 
Not all round it—I don’t mean that, for a palace 
ought to be open to the sun and wind, and stand high 
and brave, with weathercocks glittering and flags 
flying; but on one side of every palace there must be 
a wood. And there was a very grand wood indeed 
beside the palace of the king who was going to be 
Daylight’s father; such a grand wood, that nobody 
yet had ever got to the other end of it. Near the 
house it was kept very trim and nice, and it was 
free of brushwood for a long way in; but by degrees 
it got wild, and it grew wilder, and wilder, and 
wilder, until some said wild beasts at last did what 
they liked in it. The king and his courtiers often 
hunted, however, and this kept the wild beasts far 
away from the palace. 


236 










LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


One glorious summer morning, when the wind 
and sun were out together, when the vanes were 
flashing and the flags frolicking against the blue sky, 
little Daylight made her appearance from some¬ 
where'—nobody could tell where—a beautiful baby, 
with such bright eyes that she might have come from 
the sun, only by and by she showed such lively ways 
that she might equally well have come out of the 
wind. There was great jubilation in the palace, for 
this was the first baby the queen had had, and there 
is as much happiness over a new baby in a palace 
as in a cottage. 

But there is one disadvantage of living near a 
wood: you do not know quite who your neighbours 
may be. Everybody knew there were in it several 
fairies, living within a few miles of the palace, who 
always had had something to do with each new baby 
that came; for fairies live so much longer than we, 
that they can have business with a good many gen¬ 
erations of human mortals. The curious houses they 
lived in were well known also,—one, a hollow oak; 
another, a birch-tree, though nobody could ever find 
how that fairy made a house of it; another, a hut 
of growing trees intertwined, and patched up with 
turf and moss. But there was another fairy who 
had lately come to the place, and nobody even knew 
she was a fairy except the other fairies. A wicked 
old thing she was, always concealing her power, and 
being as disagreeable as she could, in order to tempt 
people to give her offence, that she might have the 
pleasure of taking vengeance upon them. The peo¬ 
ple about thought she was a witch, and those who 
237 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


knew her by sight were careful to avoid offending 
her. She lived in a mud house, in a swampy part 
of the forest. 

In all history we find that fairies give their re¬ 
markable gifts to prince or princess, or any child of 
sufficient importance in their eyes, always at the 
christening. Now this we can understand, because 
it is an ancient custom amongst human beings as 
well; and it is not hard to explain why wicked 
fairies should choose the same time to do unkind 
things; but it is difficult to understand how they 
should be able to do them, for you would fancy all 
wicked creatures would be powerless on such an 
occasion. But I never knew of any interference on 
the part of a wicked fairy that did not turn out a 
good thing in the end. What a good thing, for in¬ 
stance, it was that one princess should sleep for a 
hundred years! Was she not saved from all the 
plague of young men who were not worthy of her? 
And did she not come awake exactly at the right 
moment when the right prince kissed her? For my 
part, I cannot help wishing a good many girls would 
sleep till just the same fate overtook them. It 
would be happier for them, and more agreeable to 
their friends. 

Of course all the known fairies were invited to 
the christening. But the king and queen never 
thought of inviting an old witch. For the power 
of the fairies they have by nature; whereas a witch 
gets her power by wickedness. The other fairies, 
however, knowing the danger thus run, provided as 
well as they could against accidents from her quar- 

238 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


ter. But they could neither render her powerless, 
nor could they arrange their gifts in reference to 
hers beforehand, for they could not tell what those 
might be. 

Of course the old hag was there without being 
asked. Not to be asked was just what she wanted, 
that she might have a sort of reason for doing what 
she wished to do. For somehow even the wickedest 
of creatures likes a pretext for doing the wrong 
thing. 

Five fairies had one after the other given the 
child such gifts as each counted best, and the fifth 
had just stepped back to her place in the surround¬ 
ing splendour of ladies and gentlemen, when, mum¬ 
bling a laugh between her toothless gums, the wicked 
fairy hobbled out into the middle of the circle, and 
at the moment when the archbishop was handing the 
baby to the lady at the head of the nursery depart¬ 
ment of state affairs, addressed him thus, giving a 
bite or two to every word before she could part 
with it: 

“Please your Grace, I’m very deaf: would your 
Grace mind repeating the princess’s name?” 

“With pleasure, my good woman,” said the arch¬ 
bishop, stooping to shout in her ear: “the infant’s 
name is little Daylight.” 

“And little daylight it shall be,” cried the fairy, 
in the tone of a dry axle, “and little good shall any 
of her gifts do her. For I bestow upon her the gift 
of sleeping all day long, whether she will or not. 
Ha, ha! He, he! Hi, hi!” 

Then out started the sixth fairy, who, of course, 

239 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

the others had arranged should come after the 
wicked one, in order to undo as much as she might. 

‘ 6 If she sleep all day, ’’ she said, mournfully, ‘ ‘ she 
shall, at least, wake all night.’’ 

“A nice prospect for her mother and me!” 
thought the poor king; for they loved her far too 
much to give her up to nurses, especially at night, 
as most kings and queens do—and are sorry for it 
afterwards. 

“You spoke before I had done,” said the wicked 
fairy. “That’s against the law. It gives me an¬ 
other chance.” 

“I beg your pardon,” said the other fairies, all 
together. 

“She did. I hadn’t done laughing,” said the 
crone. “I had only got to Hi, hi! and I had to go 
through Ho, ho! and Hu, liu! So I decree that if 
she wakes all night she shall wax and wane with its 
mistress the moon. And what that may mean I 
hope her royal parents will live to see. Ho, ho! 
Hu, liu! ” 

But out stepped another fairy, for they had been 
wise enough to keep two in reserve, because every 
fairy knew the trick of one. 

“Until,” said the seventh fairy, “a prince comes 
who shall kiss her without knowing it.” 

The wicked fairy made a horrid noise like an 
angry cat, and hobbled away. She could not pre¬ 
tend that she had not finished her speech this time, 
for she had laughed Ho, ho! and Hu, hu! 

“I don’t know what that means,” said the poor 
king to the seventh fairy. 

240 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


‘ ‘Don’t be afraid. The meaning will come with 
the thing'itself,” said she. 

The assembly broke up, miserable enough—the 
queen, at least, prepared for a good many sleepless 
nights, and the lady at the head of the nursery 
department anything but comfortable in the pros¬ 
pect before her, for of course the queen could not 
do it all. As for the king, he made up his mind, 
with what courage he could summon, to meet the 
demands of the case, but wondered whether he could 
with any propriety require the First Lord of the 
Treasury to take a share in the burden laid upon 
him. 

I will not attempt to describe what they had to go 
through for some time. But at last the household 
settled into a regular system—a very irregular one 
in some respects. For at certain seasons the palace 
rang all night with bursts of laughter from little 
Daylight, whose heart the old fairy’s curse could 
not reach; she was Daylight still, only a little in 
the wrong place, for she always dropped asleep at 
the first hint of dawn in the east. But her merri¬ 
ment was of short duration. When the moon was 
at the full, she was in glorious spirits, and as beau¬ 
tiful as it was possible for a child of her age to be. 
But as the moon waned, she faded, until at last she 
was wan and withered like the poorest, sickliest child 
you might come upon in the streets of a great city 
in the arms of a homeless mother. Then the night 
was quiet as the day, for the little creature lay in 
her gorgeous cradle night and day with hardly a 
motion, and indeed at last without even a moan, 


16 


241 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


like one dead. At first they often thought she was 
dead, but at last they got used to it, and only con¬ 
sulted the almanac to find the moment when she 
would begin to revive, which, of course, was with 
the first appearance of the silver thread of the 
crescent moon. Then she would move her lips, and 
they would give her a little nourishment; and she 
would grow better and better and better, until for a 
few days she was splendidly well. When well, she 
was always merriest out in the moonlight; hut even 
when near her worst, she seemed better when, in 
warm summer nights, they carried her cradle out 
into the light of the waning moon. Then in her 
sleep she would smile the faintest, most pitiful smile. 

For a long time very few people ever saw her 
awake. As she grew older she became such a 
favourite, however, that about the palace there were 
always some who would contrive to keep awake at 
night, in order to be near her. But she soon began 
to take every chance of getting away from her nurses 
and enjoying her moonlight alone. And thus things 
went on until she was nearly seventeen years of age. 
Her father and mother had by that time got so used 
to the odd state of things that they had ceased to 
wonder at them. All their arrangements had refer¬ 
ence to the state of the Princess Daylight, and it is 
amazing how things contrive to accommodate them¬ 
selves. But how any prince was ever to find and 
deliver her, appeared inconceivable. 

As she grew older she had grown more and more 
beautiful, with the sunniest hair and the loveliest 
eyes of heavenly blue, brilliant and profound as the 


242 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


sky of a June day. But so muck more painful and 
sad was the change as her bad time came on. The 
more beautiful she was in the full moon, the more 
withered and worn did she become as the moon 
waned. At the time at which my story has now 
arrived, she looked, when the moon was small or 
gone, like an old woman exhausted with suffering. 
This was the more painful that her appearance was 
unnatural; for her hair and eyes did not change. 
Her wan face was both drawn and wrinkled, and 
had an eager hungry look. Her skinny hands moved 
as if wishing, but unable, to lay hold of something. 
Her shoulders were bent forward, her chest went in, 
and she stooped as if she were eighty years old. At 
last she had to be put to bed, and there await the flow 
of the tide of life. But she grew to dislike being 
seen, still more being touched by any hands, during 
this season. One lovely summer evening, when the 
moon lay all but gone upon the verge of the horizon, 
she vanished from her attendants, and it was only 
after searching for her a long time in great terror, 
that they found her fast asleep in the forest, at the 
foot of a silver birch, and carried her home. 

A little way from the palace there was a great 
open glade, covered with the greenest and softest 
grass. This was her favourite haunt; for here the 
full moon shone free and glorious, while through 
a vista in the trees she could generally see more or 
less of the dying moon as it crossed the opening. 
Here she had a little rustic house built for her, and 
here she mostly resided. None of the court might 
go there without leave, and her own attendants had 
243 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


learned by this time not to be officious in waiting 
upon her, so that she was very much at liberty. 
Whether the good fairies had anything to do with 
it or not I cannot tell, but at last she got into the 
way of retreating further into the wood every night 
as the moon waned, so that sometimes they had great 
trouble in finding her; but as she was always very 
angry if she discovered they were watching her, they 
scarcely dared to do so. At length one night they 
thought they had lost her altogether. It was morn¬ 
ing before they found her. Feeble as she was, she 
had wandered into a thicket a long way from the 
glade, and there she lay—fast asleep, of course. 

Although the fame of her beauty and sweetness 
had gone abroad, yet as everybody knew she was 
under a bad spell, no king in the neighbourhood had 
any desire to have her for a daughter-in-law. There 
were serious objections to such a relation. 

About this time in a neighbouring kingdom, in con¬ 
sequence of the wickedness of the nobles, an insilr- 
rection took place upon the death of the old king, 
the greater part of the nobility was massacred, and 
the young prince was compelled to flee for his life, 
disguised like a peasant. For some time, until he 
got out of the country, he suffered much from hun¬ 
ger and fatigue; but when he got into that ruled by 
the princess’s father, and had no longer any fear 
of being recognized, he fared better, for the people 
were kind. He did not abandon his disguise, how¬ 
ever. One tolerable reason was that he had no other 
clothes to put on, and another that he had very little 
money, and did not know where to get any more. 

244 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


There was no good in telling everybody he met that 
he was a prince, for he felt that a prince ought to 
be able to get on like other people, else his rank only 
made a fool of him. He had read of princes setting 
out upon adventure; and here he was out in similar 
case, only without having had a choice in the matter. 
He would go on, and see what would come of it. 

For a day or two he had been walking through 
the palace-wood, and had had next to nothing to eat, 
when he came upon the strangest little house, inhab¬ 
ited by a very nice tidy motherly old woman. This 
was one of the good fairies. The moment she saw 
him she knew quite well who he was and what was 
going to come of it; but she was not at liberty to in¬ 
terfere with the orderly march of events. She re¬ 
ceived him with the kindness she would have shown 
to any other traveller, and gave him bread and milk, 
which he thought the most delicious food he had 
ever tasted, wondering that they did not have it for 
dinner at the palace sometimes. The old woman 
pressed him to stay all night. When he awoke he 
was amazed to find how well and strong he felt. She 
would not take any of the money he offered, hut 
begged him, if he found occasion of continuing in 
the neighbourhood, to return and occupy the same 
quarters. 

“Thank you much, good mother,’’ answered the 
prince; “but there is little chance of that. The 
sooner I get out of this wood the better.” 

“I don’t know that,” said the fairy. 

“What do you mean?” asked the prince. 

“Why how should I know?” returned she. 

245 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

“I can’t tell,” said the prince. 

“Very well,” said the fairy. 

“How strangely you talk!” said the prince. 

“Do I?” said the fairy. 

“Yes, you do,” said the prince. 

“Very well,” said the fairy. 

The prince was not used to be spoken to in this 
fashion, so he felt a little angry, and turned and 
walked away. But this did not offend the fairy. 
She stood at the door of her little house looking after 
him till the trees hid him quite. Then she said “At 
last!” and went in. 

The prince wandered and wandered, and got no¬ 
where. The sun sank and sank and went out of 
sight, and he seemed no nearer the end of the wood 
than ever. He sat down on a fallen tree, ate a bit of 
bread the old woman had given him, and waited for 
the moon; for, although he was not much of an 
astronomer, he knew the moon would rise some time, 
because she had risen the night before. Up she 
came, slow and slow, but of a good size, pretty nearly 
round indeed; whereupon, greatly refreshed with 
his piece of bread, he got up and went—he knew not 
whither. 

After walking a considerable distance, he thought 
he was coming to the outside of the forest; but when 
he reached what he thought the last of it, he found 
himself only upon the edge of a great open space in 
it, covered with grass. The moon shone very bright, 
and he thought he had never seen a more lovely spot. 
Still it looked dreary because of its loneliness, for 
he could not see the house at the other side. He 


246 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


sat down weary again, and gazed into the glade. He 
had not seen so much room for several days. 

All at once he spied something in the middle of 
the grass. What could it be? It moved; it came 
nearer. Was it a human creature, gliding across— 
a girl dressed in white, gleaming in the moonshine? 
She came nearer and nearer. He crept behind a 
tree and watched, wondering. It must be some 
strange being of the wood—a nymph whom the moon¬ 
light and the warm dusky air had enticed from her 
tree. But when she came close to where he stood, 
he no longer doubted she was human—for he had 
caught sight of her sunny hair, and her clear blue 
eyes, and the loveliest face and form that he had 
ever seen. All at once she began singing like a 
nightingale, and dancing to her own music, with her 
eyes ever turned towards the moon. She passed 
close to where he stood, dancing on by the edge of 
the trees and away in a great circle towards the 
other side, until he could see but a spot of white 
in the yellowish green of the moonlit grass. But 
when he feared it would vanish quite, the spot grew, 
and became a figure once more. She approached 
him again, singing and dancing, and waving her 
arms over her head, until she had completed the 
circle. Just opposite his tree she stood, ceased her 
song, dropped her arms, and broke out into a long 
clear laugh, musical as a brook. Then, as if tired, 
she threw herself on the grass, and lay gazing at 
the moon. The prince was almost afraid to breathe 
lest he should startle her, and she should vanish 
from his sight. A s to venturing near her, that never 
came into his head. 


247 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


She had lain for a long hour or longer, when the 
prince began again to doubt concerning her. Per¬ 
haps she was but a vision of his own fancy. Or 
was she a spirit of the wood, after all! If so, he too 
would haunt the wood* glad to have lost kingdom 
and everything for the hope of being near her. He 
would build him a hut in the forest, and there he 
would live for the pure chance of seeing her again. 
Upon nights like this at least she would come out and 
bask in the moonlight, and make his soul blessed. 
But while he thus dreamed she sprang to her feet, 
turned her face full to the moon, and began singing 
as if she would draw her down from the sky by the 
power of her entrancing voice. She looked more 
beautiful than ever. Again she began dancing to 
her own music, and danced away into the distance. 
Once more she returned in a similar manner; but 
although he was watching as eagerly as before, what 
with fatigue and what with gazing, he fell fast asleep 
before she came near him. When he awoke it was 
broad daylight, and the princess was nowhere. 

He could not leave the place. What if she should 
come the next night! He would gladly endure a 
day’s hunger to see her yet again: he would buckle 
his belt quite tight. He walked round the glade to 
see if he could discover any prints of her feet. But 
the grass was so short, and her steps had been so 
light, that she had not left a single trace behind her. 

He walked half-way round the wood without see¬ 
ing anything to account for her presence. Then he 
*spied a lovely little house, with thatched roof and 
low eaves, surrounded by an exquisite garden, with 

248 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


doves and peacocks walking in it. Of course this 
must be where the gracious lady who loved the moon¬ 
light lived. Forgetting his appearance, he walked 
towards the door, determined to make inquiries, but 
as he passed a little pond full of gold and silver 
fishes, he caught sight of himself and turned to find 
the door to the kitchen. There he knocked, and 
asked for a piece of bread. The good-natured cook 
brought him in, and gave him an excellent break¬ 
fast, which the prince found nothing the worse for 
being served in the kitchen. While he ate, he talked 
with his entertainer, and learned that this was the 
favourite retreat of the Princess Daylight. But he 
learned nothing more, both because he was afraid of 
seeming inquisitive, and because the cook did not 
choose to be heard talking about her mistress to a 
peasant lad who had begged for his breakfast. 

As he rose to take his leave, it occurred to him 
that he might not be so far from the old woman’s 
cottage as he had thought, and he asked the cook 
whether she knew anything of such a place, describ¬ 
ing it as well as he could. She said she knew it 
well enough, adding with a smile— 

‘ 4 It’s there you’re going, is it?” 

“Yes, if it’s not far off.” 

“It’s not more than three miles. But mind what 
you are about, you know.” 

“Why do you say that!” 

“If you’re after any mischief, she’ll make you 
repent it.” 

“The best thing that could happen under the cir¬ 
cumstances,” remarked the prince. 

249 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


‘ ‘What do you mean by that?” asked the cook. 

“Why, it stands to reason,” answered the prince, 
“that if you wish to do anything wrong, the best 
thing for you is to be made to repent of it.” 

“I see,” said the cook. “Well, I think you may 
venture. She’s a good old soul.” 

“Which way does it lie from here?” asked the 
prince. 

She gave him full instructions; and he left her 
with many thanks. 

Being now refreshed, however, the prince did not 
go back to the cottage that day: he remained in the 
forest, amusing himself as best he could, but wait¬ 
ing anxiously for the night, in the hope that the 
princess would again appear. Nor was he disap¬ 
pointed, for, directly the moon rose, he spied a glim¬ 
mering shape far across the glade. As it drew 
nearer, he saw it was she indeed—not dressed in 
white as before: in a pale blue like the sky, she 
looked lovelier still. He thought it was that the 
blue suited her yet better than the white; he did 
not know that she was really more beautiful because 
the moon was nearer the full. In fact the next night 
was full moon, and the princess would then be at the 
zenith of her loveliness. 

The prince feared for some time that she was not 
coming near his hiding-place that night; but the 
circles in her dance ever widened as the moon rose, 
until at last they embraced the whole glade, and 
she came still closer to the trees where he was hiding 
than she had come the night before. He was en¬ 
tranced with her loveliness, for it was indeed a mar- 


250 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


veilous thing. All night long lie watched her, but 
dared not go near her. He would have been 
ashamed of watching her too, had he not become 
almost incapable of thinking of anything but how 
beautiful she was. He watched the whole night 
long, and saw that as the moon went down she 
retreated in smaller and smaller circles, until at last 
he could see her no more. 

Weary as he was, he set out for the old woman’s 
cottage, where he arrived just in time for her break¬ 
fast, which she shared with him. He then went 
to bed, and slept for many hours. When he awoke, 
the sun was down, and he departed in great anxiety 
lest he should lose a glimpse of the lovely vision. 
But, whether it was by the machinations of the 
swamp-fairy, or merely that it is one thing to go 
and another to return by the same road, he lost his 
way. I shall not attempt to describe his misery 
when the moon rose, and he saw nothing but trees, 
trees, trees. She was high in the heavens before he 
reached the glade. Then indeed his troubles van¬ 
ished, for there was the princess coming dancing 
towards him, in a dress that shone like gold, and 
with shoes that glimmered through the grass like 
fire-flies. She was of course still more beautiful 
than before. Like an embodied sunbeam she passed 
him, and danced away into the distance. 

Before she returned in her circle, clouds had be¬ 
gun to gather about the moon. The wind rose, the 
trees moaned, and their lighter branches leaned all 
one way before it. The prince feared that the prin¬ 
cess would go in, and he should see her no more 

251 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


that night. But she came dancing on more jubilant 
than ever, her golden dress and her sunny hair 
streaming out upon the blast, waving her arms 
towards the moon, and in the exuberance of her de¬ 
light ordering the clouds away from off her face. 
The prince could hardly believe she was not a crea¬ 
ture of the elements, after all. 

By the time she had completed another circle, the 
clouds had gathered deep, and there were growlings 
of distant thunder. Just as she passed the tree 
where he stood, a flash of lightning blinded him for 
a moment, and when he saw again, to his horror, the 
princess lay on the ground. He darted to her, 
thinking she had been struck; but when she heard 
him coming, she was on her feet in a moment. 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I beg your pardon. I thought—the light¬ 
ning-” said the prince, hesitating. 

“There’s nothing the matter,” said the princess, 
waving him off rather haughtily. 

The poor prince turned and walked towards the 
wood. 

“Come back,” said Daylight: “I like you. You 
do what you are told. Are you good?” 

“Not so good as I should like to be,” said the 
prince. 

“Then go and grow better,” said the princess. 

Again the disappointed prince turned and went. 

“Come back,” said the princess. 

He obeyed, and stood before her waiting. 

“Can you tell me what the sun is like?” she asked. 

“No,” he answered. “But where’s the good of 
asking what you know?” 


252 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


“But I don’t know,” she rejoined. 

“Why, everybody knows.” 

“That’s the very thing: I’m not everybody. I’ve 
never seen the sun.” 

“Then you can’t know what it’s like till you do 
see it.” 

‘ 4 1 think you must be a prince, ’ ’ said the princess. 

“Do I look like one?” said the prince. 

“I can’t quite say that.” 

“Then why do you think so?” 

“Because you both do what you are told and 
speak the truth.—Is the sun so very bright?” 

“As bright as the lightning.” 

“But it doesn’t go out like that, does it?” 

“Oh no. It shines like the moon, rises and sets 
like the moon, is much the same shape as the moon, 
only so bright that you can’t look at it for a 
moment. ’ ’ 

“But I would look at it,” said the princess. 

“But you couldn’t,” said the prince. 

“But I could,” said the princess.” 

“Why don’t you, then?” 

“Because I can’t.” 

“ Why can’t you?” 

“Because I can’t wake. And I never shall wake 
until-” 

Here she hid her face in her hands, turned away, 
and walked in the slowest, stateliest manner towards 
the house. The prince ventured to follow her at a 
little distance, but she turned and made a repellent 
gesture, which, like a true gentleman-prince, he 
obeyed at once. He waited a long time, but as she 

253 



AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

did not come near him again, and as the night had 
now cleared, he set off at last for the old woman’s 
cottage. 

It was long past midnight when he reached it, but, 
to his surprise, the old woman was paring potatoes 
at the door. Fairies are fond of doing odd things. 
Indeed, however they may dissemble, the night is 
always their day. And so it is with all who have 
fairy blood in them. 

“Why, what are you doing there, this time of the 
night, mother?” said the prince; for that was the 
kind way in which any young man in his country 
would address a woman who was much older than 
himself. 

‘ ‘ Getting your supper ready, my son, ’ ’ she 
answered. 

“ Oh! I don’t want any supper,’ ’ said the prince. 

“Ah! you’ve seen Daylight,” said she. 

“I’ve seen a princess who never saw it,” said the 
prince. 

“Do you like her?” asked the fairy. 

“Oh! don’t I?” said the prince. “More than 
you would believe, mother.” 

“A fairy can believe anything that ever was or 
ever could be, ’ ’ said the old woman. 

“Then are you a fairy?” asked the prince. 

“Yes,” said she. 

“Then what do you do for things not to believe?” 
asked the prince. 

“There’s plenty of them—everything that never 
was nor ever could be.” 

“Plenty, I grant you,” said the prince. “But do 

254 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


yon believe there could be a princess who never 
saw the daylight? Do you believe that, now?” 

This the prince said, not that he doubted the 
princess, but that he wanted the fairy to tell him 
more. She was too old a fairy, however, to be 
caught so easily. 

“Of all people, fairies must not tell secrets. Be¬ 
sides, she’s a princess.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you a secret. I’m a prince.” 

“I know that.” 

“How do you know it?” 

“By the curl of the third eyelash on your left 
eyelid. ’ ’ 

“Which corner do you count from?” 

“That’s a secret.” 

“Another secret? Well, at least, if I am a prince, 
there can be no harm in telling me about a princess.” 

“It’s just princes I can’t tell.” 

“There ain’t any more of them—are there?” 
said the prince. 

“What! you don’t think you’re the only prince 
in the world, do you?” 

“Oh, dear, no! not at all. But I know there’s 
one too many just at present, except the 
princess-” 

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” said the fairy. 

“What’s it?” asked the prince. 

But he could get nothing more out of the fairy, 
and had to go to bed unanswered, which was some¬ 
thing of a trial. 

Now wicked fairies will not be bound by the laws 
which the good fairies obey, and this always seems 
255 



AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


to give the bad the advantage over the good, for they 
use means to gain their ends which the others will 
not. But it is all of no consequence, for what they 
do never succeeds; nay, in the end it brings about 
the very thing they are trying to prevent. So you 
see that somehow, for all their cleverness, wicked 
fairies are dreadfully stupid, for, although from the 
beginning of the world they have really helped in¬ 
stead of thwarting the good fairies, not one of them 
is a bit the wiser for it. She will try the bad thing 
just as they all did before her; and succeeds no 
better of course. 

The prince had so far stolen a march upon the 
swamp-fairy that she did not know he was in the 
neighbourhood until after he had seen the princess 
those three times. When she knew it, she consoled 
herself by thinking that the princess must be far 
too proud and too modest for any young man to 
venture even to speak to her before he had seen her 
six times at least. But there was even less danger 
than the wicked fairy thought; for, however much 
the princess might desire to be set free, she was 
dreadfully afraid of the wrong prince. Now, how¬ 
ever, the fairy was going to do all she could. 

She so contrived it by her deceitful spells, that the 
next night the prince could not by any endeavour 
find his way to the glade. It would take me too long 
to tell her tricks. They would be amusing to us, who 
know that they could not do any harm, but they were 
something other than amusing to the poor prince. 
He wandered about the forest till daylight, and then 
fell fast asleep. The same thing occurred for seven 
256 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


following days, during which neither could he find 
the good fairy’s cottage. After the third quarter 
of the moon, however, the bad fairy thought she 
might be at ease about the affair for a fortnight at 
least, for there was no chance of the prince wishing 
to kiss the princess during that period. So the 
first day of the fourth quarter he did find the cot¬ 
tage, and the next day he found the glade. For 
nearly another week he haunted it. But the prin¬ 
cess never came. I have little doubt she was on the. 
farther edge of it some part of every night, but at 
this period she always wore black, and, there being 
little or no light, the prince never saw her. Nor 
would he have known her if he had seen her. How 
could he have taken the worn decrepit creature she 
was now, for the glorious Princess Daylight! 

At last, one night when there was no moon at alb 
he ventured near the house. There he heard voices 
talking, although it was past midnight; for her wo¬ 
men were in considerable uneasiness, because the 
one whose turn it was to watch her had fallen asleep, 
and had not seen which way she went, and this was a 
night when she would probably wander very far, 
describing a circle which did not touch the open 
glade at all, hut stretched away from the back of 
the house, deep into that side of the forest—a part 
of which the prince knew nothing. When he under¬ 
stood from what they said that she had disappeared, 
and that she must have gone somewhere in the said 
direction, he plunged at once into the wood to see 
if he could find her. For hours he roamed with 
nothing to guide him hut the vague notion of a 
17 257 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

circle which on one side bordered on the house, for 
so much had he picked up from the talk he had 
overheard. 

It was getting towards the dawn, but as yet there 
was no streak of light in the sky, when he came to 
a great birch-tree, and sat down weary at the foot 
of it. While he sat—very miserable, you may be 
sure—full of fear for the princess, and wondering 
how her attendants could take it so quietly, he be¬ 
thought himself that it would not be a bad plan to 
light a fire, which, if she were anywhere near, would 
attract her. This he managed with a tinder-box, 
which the good fairy had given him. It was just 
beginning to blaze up, when he heard a moan, which 
seemed to come from the other side of the tree. He 
sprung to his feet, but his heart throbbed so that he 
had to lean for a moment against the tree before he 
could move. When he got round, there lay a human 
form in a little dark heap on the earth. There was 
light enough from his fire to show that it was not 
the princess. He lifted it in his arms, hardly heav¬ 
ier than a child, and carried it to the flame. The 
countenance was that of an old woman, but it had a 
fearfully strange look. A black hood concealed her 
hair, and her eyes were closed. He laid her down 
as comfortably as he could, chafed her hands, put 
a little cordial from a bottle, also the gift of the 
fairy, into her mouth; took off his coat and wrapped 
it about her, and in short did the best he could. In 
a little while she opened her eyes and looked at him 
—so pitifully! The tears rose and flowed down her 
gray wrinkled cheeks, but she said never a word. 
She closed her eyes again, but the tears kept on 

258 


LITTLE DAYLIGHT 


flowing, and her whole appearance was so utterly 
pitiful that the prince was very near crying too. He 
begged her to tell him what was the matter, promis¬ 
ing to do all he could to help her; but still she did 
not speak. He thought she was dying, and took 
her in his arms again to carry her to the princess’s 
house, where he thought the good-natured cook 
might he able to do something for her. When he 
lifted her, the tears flowed yet faster, and she gave 
such a sad moan that it went to his very heart. 

“Mother, mother!” he said- 4 ‘Poor mother!” 

and kissed her on the withered lips. 

She started; and what eyes they were that opened 
upon him! But he did not see them, for it was still 
very dark, and he had enough to do to make his way 
through the trees towards the house. 

Just as he approached the door, feeling more 
tired than he could have imagined possible—she was 
such a little thin old thing—she began to move, and 
became so restless that, unable to carry her a 
moment longer, he thought to lay her on the grass. 
But she stood upright on her feet. Her hood had 
dropped, and her hair fell about her. The first 
gleam of the morning was caught on her face: that 
face was bright as the never-aging Dawn, and her 
eyes were lovely as the sky of darkest blue. The 
prince recoiled in over-mastering wonder. It was 
Daylight herself whom he had brought from the 
forest! He fell at her feet, nor dared look up until 
she laid her hand upon his head. He rose then. 

“You kissed me when I was an old woman: there! 
I kiss you when I am a young princess,” murmured 
Daylight.—“Is that the sun coming!” 

259 


XXIX. 

RUBY 



HE children were delighted with 
the story, and made many amus ■ 
ing remarks npon it. Mr. Ray¬ 
mond promised to search his 
brain for another, and when he 
had found one to bring it to them. Diamond having 
taken leave of Nanny, and promised to go and see 
her again soon, went away with him. 

Now Mr. Raymond had been turning over in his 
mind what he could do both for Diamond and for 
Nanny. He had therefore made some acquaintance 
with Diamond’s father, and had been greatly pleased 
with him. But he had come to the resolution, be¬ 
fore he did anything so good as he would like to do 
for them, to put them all to a certain test. So as 
they walked away together, he began to talk with 
Diamond as follows:— 

4 ‘Nanny must leave the hospital soon, Diamond.” 

“I’m glad of that, sir.” 

“Why? Don’t you think it’s a nice place?” 

260 










RUBY 


.“Yes, very. But it’s better to be well and doing 
something, yon know, even if it's not quite so 
comfortable.” 

“But they can’t keep Nanny so long as they would 
like. They can’t keep her till she’s quite strong. 
There are always so many sick children they want 
to take in and make better. And the question is, 
What will she do when they send her out again?” 

“That’s just what I can’t tell, though I’ve been 
thinking of it over and over, sir. Her crossing was 
taken long ago, and I couldn’t bear to see Nanny 
fighting for it, especially with such a poor fellow 
as has taken it. He’s quite lame, sir.” 

“She doesn’t look much like fighting, now, does 
she, Diamond?” 

“No, sir. She looks too like an angel. Angels 
don’t fight—do they, sir?” 

“Not to get things for themselves, at least,” said 
Mr. Raymond. 

“Besides,” added Diamond, “I don’t quite see 
that she would have any better right to the crossing 
than the boy who has got it. Nobody gave it to her; 
she only took it. And now he has taken it.” 

“If she were to sweep a crossing—soon at least— 
after the illness she has had, she would be laid up 
again the very first wet day, ’ ’ said Mr. Raymond. 

“And there’s hardly any money to be got except 
on the wet days,” remarked Diamond reflectively. 
“Is there nothing else she could do, sir?” 

“Not without being taught, I’m afraid.” 

“Well, couldn’t somebody teach her something V r 

“Couldn’t you teach her, Diamond?” 

261 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“I don’t know anything myself, sir. I could 
teach her to dress the baby; but nobody would give 
her anything for doing things like that: they are 
so easy. There wouldn’t be much good in teaching 
her to drive a cab, for where would she get the cab 
to drive? There ain’t fathers and old Diamonds 
everywhere. At least poor Nanny can’t find any of 
them, I doubt.” 

“Perhaps if she were taught to be nice and clean, 
and only speak gentle words-” 

“Mother could teach her that,” interrupted 
Diamond. 

“And to dress babies, and feed them, and take 
care of them,” Mr. Raymond proceeded, “she might 
get a place as a nurse somewhere, you know. Peo¬ 
ple do give money for that.” 

“Then I’ll ask mother,” said Diamond. 

“But you’ll have to give her her food then; and 
your father, not being strong, has enough to do 
already without that.” 

“But here’s me,” said Diamond: “I help him out 
with it. When he’s tired of driving, up I get. It 
don’t make any difference to old Diamond. I don’t 
mean he likes me as well as my father—of course 
he can’t, you know—nobody could; but he does his 
duty all the same. It’s got to be done, you know, 
sir; and Diamond’s a good horse—isn’t he, sir?” 

“From your description I should say certainly; 
but I have not the pleasure of his acquaintance 
myself.” 

“Don’t you think he will go to heaven, sir?” 

“That I don’t know anything about,” said Mr. 

262 



RUBY 


Raymond. “I confess I should be glad to think 
so,” he added, smiling thoughtfully. 

“I’m sure he ’ll get to the back of the north wind, 
anyhow,” said Diamond to himself; but he had 
learned to be very careful of saying such things 
aioud. 

“Isn’t it rather too much for him to go in the cab 
all day and every day?” resumed Mr. Raymond. 

“So father says, when he feels his ribs of a morn¬ 
ing. But then he says the old horse do eat well, and 
the moment he’s had his supper, down he goes, and 
never gets up till he’s called; and, for the legs of 
him, father says that makes no end of a differ. 
Some horses, sir! they won’t lie down all night long, 
but go to sleep on their four pins, like a haystack, 
father says. I think it’s very stupid of them, and 
so does old Diamond. But then I suppose they 
don’t know better, and so they can’t help it. We 
mustn’t be too hard upon them, father says. ’ ’ 

“Your father must be a good man, Diamond.” 

Diamond looked up in Mr. Raymond’s face, won¬ 
dering what he could mean. 

“I said your father must be a good man, Dia¬ 
mond.” 

“Of course,” said Diamond. “How could he 
drive a cab if he wasn’t?” 

1 ‘ There are some men drive cabs who are not very 
good,” objected Mr. Raymond. 

Diamond remembered the drunken cabman, and 
saw that his friend was right. 

“Ah! but,” he returned, “he must be, you know, 
with such a horse as old Diamond.” 


263 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“Tliat does make a difference/ ’ said Mr. Ray¬ 
mond. “But it is quite enough that he is sl good 
man, without our trying to account for it. Now, if 
you like, I will give you a proof that I think him 
a good man. I am going away on the Continent for 
a while—for three months, I believe—and I am go¬ 
ing to let my house to a gentleman who does not 
want the use of my brougham. My horse is nearly 
as old, I fancy, as your Diamond, but I don’t want 
to part with him, and I don’t want him to be idle; 
for nobody, as you say, ought to be idle; but neither 
do I want him to be worked very hard. Now, it has 
come into my head that perhaps your father would 
take charge of him, and work him under certain 
conditions.” 

“My father will do wliat’s right,” said Diamond. 
“I’m sure of that.” 

“Well, so I think. Will you ask him when he 
comes home to call and have a little chat with me— 
to-day, some time?” 

“He must have his dinner first,” said Diamond. 
“No, he’s got his dinner with him to-day. It must 
be after he’s had his-tea.” 

‘ ‘ Of course, of course. Any time will do. I shall 
be at home all day.” 

“Very well, sir. I will tell him. You may be 
sure he will come. My father thinks you a very kind 
gentleman, and I know he is right, for I know your 
very own self, sir.” 

Mr. Raymond smiled, and as they had now reached 
his door, they parted, and Diamond went home. As 
soon as his father entered the house, Diamond gave 

264 


RUBY 


him Mr. Raymond’s message, and recounted the 
conversation that had preceded it. His father said 
little, but took thought-sauce to his bread and butter, 
and as soon as he had finished his meal, rose, saying: 

“I will go to your friend directly, Diamond. It 
would be a grand thing to get a little more money. 
We do want it.” 

Diamond accompanied his father to Mr. Ray¬ 
mond’s door, and there left him. 

He was shown at once into Mr. Raymond’s study, 
where he gazed with some wonder at the multitude 
of books on the walls, and thought what a learned 
man Mr. Raymond must be. 

Presently Mr. Raymond entered, and after saying 
much the same about his old horse, made the follow¬ 
ing distinct proposal—one not over-advantageous to 
Diamond’s father, but for which he had reasons— 
namely, that Joseph should have the use of Mr. Ray¬ 
mond’s horse while he was away, on condition that 
he never worked him more than six hours a day, and 
fed him well, and that, besides, he should take Nanny 
home as soon as she was able to leave the hospital, 
and provide for her as for one of his own children, 
neither better nor worse—so long, that is, as he had 
the horse. 

Diamond’s father could not help thinking it a 
pretty close bargain. He should have both the girl 
and the horse to feed, and only six hours’ work out 
of the horse. 

“It will save your own horse,” said Mr. Raymond. 

“That is true,” answered Joseph; “but all I can 
get by my own horse is only enough to keep us, 
265 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

and if I save him and feed your horse and the girl— 
don’t you see, sir?” 

“Well, you can go home and think about it, and 
let me know by the end of the week. I am in no 
hurry before then.” 

So Joseph went home and recounted the proposal 
to his wife, adding that he did not think there was 
much advantage to be got out of it. 

“Not much that way, husband,” said Diamond’s 
mother; “but there would be an advantage, and 
what matter who gets it! ” 

“I don’t see it,” answered her husband. “Mr. 
Kaymond is a gentleman of property, and I don’t 
discover any much good in helping him to save a 
little more. He won’t easily get one to make such a 
bargain, and I don’t mean he shall get me. It would 
be a loss rather than a gain—I do think—at least, 
if I took less work out of our own horse.” 

“One hour would make a difference to old Dia¬ 
mond. But that’s not the main point. You must 
think what an advantage it would be to the poor 
girl that hasn’t a home to go to!” 

“She is one of Diamond’s friends,” thought his 
father. 

“I could be kind to her, you know,” the mother 
went on, “and teach her housework, and how to 
handle a baby; and, besides, she would help me, 
and I should be the stronger for it, and able to do 
an odd bit of charing now and then, when I got the 
chance. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I won’t hear of that, ’ ’ said her husband. ‘ 4 Have 
the girl by all means. I’m ashamed I did not think 
266 


RUBY 


of both sides of the thing at once. I wonder if the 
horse is a great eater. To he sure, if I gave Dia¬ 
mond two hours’ additional rest, it would be all the 
better for the old bones of him, and there would be 
four hours extra out of the other horse. That would 
give Diamond something to do every day. He could 
drive old Diamond after dinner, and I could take 
the other horse out for six hours after tea, or in the 
morning, as I found best. It might pay for the 
keep of both of them,—that is, if I had good luck. I 
should like to oblige Mr. Raymond, though he be 
rather hard, for he has been very kind to our Dia¬ 
mond, wife. Hasn’t he now?” 

“He has indeed, Joseph,” said his wife, and there 
the conversation ended. 

Diamond’s father went the very next day to Mr. 
Raymond, and accepted his proposal; so that the 
week after, having got another stall in the same 
stable, he had two horses instead of one. Oddly 
enough, the name of the new horse was Ruby, for he 
was a very red chestnut. Diamond’s name came 
from a white lozenge on his forehead. Young Dia¬ 
mond said they were rich now, with such a big dia¬ 
mond and such a big ruby. 


XXX. 

NANNY’S DREAM 



ANNY was not fit to be moved 
for some time yet, and Diamond 
went to see her as often as he 
could. But being more regu¬ 
larly engaged now, seeing he 
went out every day for a few hours with old Dia¬ 
mond, and had his baby to mind, and one of the 
horses to attend to, he could not go so often as he 
would have liked. 

One evening, as he sat by her bedside, she said 


to him: 

“I’ve had such a beautiful dream, Diamond! I 
should like to tell it you.’ ’ 

“Oh! do,” said Diamond; “I am so fond of 
dreams!” 

“She must have been to the back of the north 
wind, ’ ’ he said to himself. 

“It was a very foolish dream, you know. But 
somehow it was so pleasant! What a good thing 
it is that you believe the dream all the time you are 
in it!” 


268 











NANNY’S DREAM 


My readers must not suppose that poor Nanny 
was able to say what she meant so well as I put it 
down here. She had never been to school, and had 
heard very little else than vulgar speech until she 
came to the hospital. But I have been to school, 
and although that could never make me able to 
dream so well as Nanny, it has made me able to tell 
her dream better than she could herself. And I 
am the more desirous of doing this for her that I 
have already done the best I could for Diamond’s 
dream, and it would be a shame to give the boy all 
the advantage. 

“I will tell you all I know about it,” said Nanny. 
‘ ‘ The day before yesterday, a lady came to see us— 
a very beautiful lady, and very beautifully dressed. 
I heard the matron say to her that it was very kind 
of her to come in blue and gold; and she answered 
that she knew we didn’t like dull colours. She had 
such a lovely shawl on, just like redness dipped in 
milk, and all worked over with flowers of the same 
colour. It didn’t shine much; it was silk, but it 
kept in the shine. When she came to my bedside, 
she sat down, just where you are sitting, Diamond, 
and laid her hand on the counterpane. I was sitting 
up, with my table before me, ready for my tea. Her 
hand looked so pretty in its blue glove, that I was 
tempted to stroke it. I thought she wouldn’t be 
angry, for everybody that comes to the hospital is 
kind. It’s only in the streets they ain’t kind. But 
she drew her hand away, and I almost cried, for I 
thought I had been rude. Instead of that, however, 
it was only that she didn’t like giving me her glove 
to stroke, for she drew it off, and then laid her hand 


269 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

where it was before. I wasn’t sure, but I ventured 
to put out my ugly hand.” 

“Your hand ain’t ugly, Nanny,” said Diamond; 
but Nanny went on— 

“And I stroked it again, and then she stroked 
mine,—think of that! And there was a ring on her 
finger, and I looked down to see what it was like. 
And she drew it off, and put it upon one of my 
fingers. It was a red stone, and she told me they 
called it a ruby.” 

“Oh, that is funny!” said Diamond. “Our new 
horse is called Ruby. We’ve got another horse—a 
red one—such a beauty!” 

But Nanny went on with her story. 

“I looked at the ruby all the time the lady was 
talking to me,—it was so beautiful! And as she 
talked I kept seeing deeper and deeper into the stone. 
At last she rose to go away, and I began to pull the 
ring off my finger; and what do you think she said! 
—‘Wear it all night, if you like. Only you must 
take care of it. I can’t give it you, for some one 
gave it to me; but you may keep it till to-morrow. ’ 
Wasn’t it kind of her! I could hardly take my tea, 
I was so delighted to hear it; and I do think it was 
the ring that set me dreaming; for, after I had taken 
my tea, I leaned back, half lying and half sitting, 
and looked at the ring on my finger. By degrees I 
began to dream. The ring grew larger and larger, 
until at last I found that I was not looking at a red 
stone, but at a red sunset, which shone in at the end 
of a long street near where Grannie lives. I was 
dressed in rags as I used to be, and I had great holes 

270 


NANNY’S DREAM 


in my shoes, at which the nasty mud came through 
to my feet. I didn’t use to mind it before, but now 
I thought it horrid. And there was the great red 
sunset, with streaks of green and gold between, 
standing looking at me. Why couldn’t I live in the 
sunset instead of in that dirt? Why was it so far 
away always? Why did it never come into our 
wretched street? It faded away, as the sunsets 
always do, and at last went out altogether. Then 
a cold wind began to blow, and flutter all my rags 
about-” 

“That was North Wind herself,” said Diamond. 

“Eh?” said Nanny, and went on with her story. 

“I turned my back to it, and wandered away. I 
did not know where I was going, only it was warmer 
to go that way. I don’t think it was a north wind, 
for I found myself somewhere in the west end at last. 
But it doesn’t matter in a dream which wind it was.” 

“I don’t know that,” said Diamond. “I believe 
North Wind can get into our dreams—yes, and blow 
in them. Sometimes she has blown me out of a 
dream altogether.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, Diamond,” said 
Nanny. 

“Never mind,” answered Diamond. “Two peo¬ 
ple can’t always understand each other. They’d 
both be at the back of the north wind directly, and 
what would become of the other places without 
them?” 

“You do talk so oddly!” said Nanny. “I some¬ 
times think they must have been right about you.” 

“What did they say about me?” asked Diamond. 

271 



AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

4 ‘They called you God’s baby.” 

“How kind of them! But I knew that.” 

‘ ‘ Did you know what it meant, though ? It meant 
that you were not right in the head.” 

“I feel all right,” said Diamond, putting both 
hands to his head, as if it had been a globe he could 
take off and set on again. 

“Well, as long as you are pleased I am pleased,” 
said Nanny. 

“Thank you, Nanny. Do go on with your story. 
I think I like dreams even better than fairy tales. 
But they must be nice ones, like yours, you know.” 

“Well, I went on, keeping my back to the wind, 
until I came to a line street on the top of a hill. 
How it happened I don’t know, but the front door 
of one of the houses was open, and not only the front 
door, but the back door as well, so that I could see 
right through the house—and what do you think I 
saw? A garden place with green grass, and the 
moon shining upon it! Think of that! There was 
no moon in the street, but through the house there 
was the moon. I looked and there was nobody 
near: I would not do any harm, and the grass was 
so much nicer than the mud! But I couldn’t think 
of going on the grass with such dirty shoes: I kicked 
them off in the gutter, and ran in on my bare feet, 
up the steps, and through the house, and on to the 
grass; and the moment I came into the moonlight, 
I began to feel better. ’ ’ 

“That’s why North Wind blew you there,” said 
Diamond. 

“It came of Mr. Raymond’s story about the Prin¬ 
cess Daylight,” returned Nanny. “Well, I lay 

272 


NANNY’S DREAM 


down upon the grass in the moonlight without think¬ 
ing how I was to get out again. Somehow the moon 
suited me exactly. There was not a breath of the 
north wind you talk about; it was quite gone.” 

“You didn’t want her any more, just then. She 
never goes where she’s not wanted,” said Dia¬ 
mond. “But she blew you into the moonlight, 
anyhow. ’ ’ 

“Well, we won’t dispute about it,” said Nanny; 
“you’ve got a tile loose, you know.” 

“Suppose I have,” returned Diamond, “don’t you 
see it may let in the moonlight, or the sunlight for 
that matter?” 

“Perhaps yes, perhaps no,” said Nanny. 

“And you’ve got your dreams, too, Nanny.” 

“Yes, but I know they’re dreams.” 

“So do I. But I know besides they are something 
more as well.” 

“ Oh! do you ? ’ ’ rejoined Nanny. 4 ‘I don’t. ’ ’ 

“All right,” said Diamond. “Perhaps you will 
some day.” 

“Perhaps I won’t,” said Nanny. 

Diamond held his peace, and Nanny resumed her 
story. 

“I lay a long time, and the moonlight got in at 
every tear in my clothes, and made me feel so 
happy-” 

“There, I tell you!” said Diamond. 

“What do you tell me?” returned Nanny. 

“North Wind-” 

“It was the moonlight, I tell you,” persisted 
Nanny, and again Diamond held his peace. 

“All at once I felt that the moon was not shining 


18 


273 



AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


so strong. I looked up, and there was a cloud, all 
crapey and fluffy, trying to drown the beautiful 
creature. But the moon was so round, just like a 
whole plate, that the cloud couldn’t stick to her; she 
shook it off, and said there, and shone out clearer 
and brighter than ever. But up came a thicker 
cloud,—and ‘You shan’t’ said the moon; and ‘I will’ 
said the cloud,—but it couldn’t: out shone the moon, 
quite laughing at its impudence. I knew her ways, 
for I’ve always been used to watch her. She’s the 
only thing worth looking at in our street at night.” 

“Don’t call it your street,” said Diamond. 
“You’re not going back to it. You’re coming to 
us, you know.” 

“That’s too good to he true,” said Nanny. 

“There are very few things good enough to be 
true,” said Diamond; “but I hope this is. Too 
good to be true it can’t be. Isn’t true good? and 
isn’t good good? And how, then, can anything be 
too good to be true? That’s like old Sal—to say 
that.” 

“Don’t abuse Grannie, Diamond. She’s a hor¬ 
rid old thing, she and her gin bottle; but she’ll re¬ 
pent some day, and then you’ll be glad not to have 
said anything against her.” 

“Why?” said Diamond. 

“Because you’ll be sorry for her.” 

“I am sorry for her now.” 

“Very well. That’s right. She’ll be sorry too. 
And there’ll be an end of it.” 

“All right. You come to us,” said Diamond. 

“Where was I?” said Nanny. 

274 


NANNY’S DREAM 


‘ 4 Telling me how the moon served the clouds.’’ 

“Yes. But it wouldn’t do, all of it. Up came the 
clouds and the clouds, and they came faster and 
faster, until the moon was covered up. You couldn’t 
expect her to throw oft a hundred of them at once— 
could you?” 

“Certainly not,” said Diamond. 

“So it grew very dark; and a dog began to yelp 
in the house. I looked and saw that the door to the 
garden was shut. Presently it was opened—not to 
let me out, but to let the dog in—yelping and bound¬ 
ing. I thought if he caught sight of me, I was in 
for a biting first, and the police after. So I jumped 
up, and ran for a little summer-house in the corner 
of the garden. The dog came after me, but I shut 
the door in his face. It was well it had a door— 
wasn’t it?” 

“You dreamed of the door because you wanted 
it,” said Diamond. 

“No, I didn’t; it came of itself. It was there, in 
the true dream.” 

“There—I’ve caught you!” said Diamond. “I 
knew you believed in the dream as much as I do.” 

“Oh, well, if you will lay traps for a body!” said 
Nanny. “Anyhow, I was safe inside the summer¬ 
house. And what do you think?—There was the 
moon beginning to shine again—but only through 
one of the panes—and that one was just the colour 
of the ruby. Wasn’t it funny?” 

“No, not a bit funny,” said Diamond. 

“If you will be contrary!” said Nanny. 

“No, no,” said Diamond; “I only meant that was 
275 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

the very pane I should have expected her to shine 
through.’ ’ 

“Oh, very well!” returned Nanny. 

What Diamond meant, I do not pretend to say. 
He had curious notions about things. 

“And now,” said Nanny, “I didn’t know what to 
do, for the dog kept barking at the door, and I 
couldn’t get out. But the moon was so beautiful 
that I couldn’t keep from looking at it through the 
red pane. And as I looked it got larger and larger 
till it filled the whole pane and outgrew it, so that 
I could see it through the other panes; and it grew 
till it filled them too and the whole window, so that 
the summer-house was nearly as bright as day. 

“The dog stopped barking, and I heard a gentle 
tapping at the door, like the wind blowing a little 
branch against it. ’ ’ 

“Just like her,” said Diamond, who thought 
everything strange and beautiful must be done by 
North Wind. 

“So I turned from the window and opened the 
door; and what do you think I saw?” 

“A beautiful lady,” said Diamond. 

“No—the moon itself, as big as a little house, and 
as round as a ball, shining like yellow silver. It 
stood on the grass—down on the very grass: I could 
see nothing else for the brightness of it. And as I 
stared and wondered, a door opened in the side of 
it, near the ground, and a curious little old man, 
with a crooked thing over his shoulder, looked out, 
and said: ‘Come along, Nanny; my lady wants you. 
We’re come to fetch you.’ I wasn’t a bit frightened. 

276 



t i 


)} 


COME ALONG, NANNY; MY LADY WANTS YOU 











NANNY’S DREAM 


I went up to the beautiful bright thing, and the old 
man held down his hand, and I took hold of it, and 
gave a jump, and he gave me a lift, and I was inside 
the moon. And what do you think it was like? It 
was such a pretty little house, with blue windows 
and white curtains! At one of the windows sat a 
beautiful lady, with her head leaning on her hand, 
looking out. She seemed rather sad, and I was 
sorry for her, and stood staring at her. 

“ ‘You didn’t think I had such a beautiful mis¬ 
tress as that!’ said the queer little man. ‘No, in¬ 
deed!’ I answered: ‘who would have thought it?’ 
‘Ah! who indeed? But you see you don’t know 
everything.’ The little man closed the door, and 
began to pull at a rope which hung behind it with a 
weight at the end. After he had pulled a while, he 
said—‘There, that will do; we’re all right now.’ 
Then he took me by the hand and opened a little trap 
in the floor, and led me down two or three steps, and 
I saw like a great hole below me. ‘ Don’t be fright¬ 
ened,’ said the little man. ‘It’s not a hole. It’s 
only a window. Put your face down and look 
through.’ I did as he told me, and there was 
the garden and the summer-house, far away, lying 
at the bottom of the moonlight. ‘There!’ said the 
little man; ‘we’ve brought you off! Do you see the 
little dog barking at us down there in the garden?’ 
I told him I couldn’t see anything so far. ‘Can you 
see anything so small and so far off ?’ I said. ‘Bless 
you, child!’ said the little man; ‘I could pick up a 
needle out of the grass if I had only a long enough 
arm. There’s one lying by the door of the summer- 
277 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

house now.’ I looked at his eyes. They were very 
small, but so bright that I think he saw by the light 
that went out of them. Then he took me up, and up 
again by a little stair in a corner of the room, and 
through another trap-door, and there was one great 
round window above us, and I saw the blue sky 
and the clouds, and such lots of stars, all so big, 
and shining as hard as ever they could!’ ’ 

“The little girl-angels had been polishing them,” 
said Diamond. 

“What nonsense you do talk!” said Nanny. 

“But my nonsense is just as good as yours, 
Nanny. When you have done, I’ll tell you my 
dream. The stars are in it—not the moon, though. 
She was away somewhere. Perhaps she was gone 
to fetch you then. I don’t think that, though, for 
my dream was longer ago than yours. She might 
have been to fetch some one else, though; for we 
can’t fancy it’s only us that get such fine things done 
for them. But do tell me what came next.” 

Perhaps one of my child-readers may remember 
whether the moon came down to fetch him or her 
the same night that Diamond had his dream. I can¬ 
not tell, of course. I know she did not come to 
fetch me, though I did think I could make her follow 
me when I was a boy—not a very tiny one either. 

“The little man took me all round the house, and 
made me look out of every window. Oh, it was beau¬ 
tiful! There we were, all up in the air, in such a 
nice clean little house! ‘Your work will be to keep 
the windows bright, ’ said the little man. ‘ You won’t 
find it very difficult, for there ain’t much dust up 
27S 


NANNY’S DREAM 


here. Only, the frost settles on them sometimes, 
and the drops of rain leave marks on them.’ ‘I can 
easily clean them inside,’ I said; ‘but how am I to 
get the frost and the rain off the outside of them?’ 
‘Oh!’ he said, ‘it’s quite easy. There are ladders 
all about. You’ve only got to go out at the door, 
and climb about. There are a great many windows 
you haven’t seen yet, and some of them look into 
places you don’t know anything about. I used to 
clean them myself, hut I’m getting rather old, you 
see. Ain’t I now? ’ ‘I can’t tell,’ I answered. ‘ You 
see I never saw you when you were younger.’ 
‘Never saw the man in the moon?’ said he. ‘Not 
very near,’ I answered—‘not to tell how young or 
how old he looked. I have seen the bundle of sticks 
on his back.’ For Jim had pointed that out to me. 
Jim was very fond of looking at the man in the moon. 
Poor Jim! I wonder he hasn’t been to see me. I’m 
afraid he’s ill too.” 

“I’ll try to find out,” said Diamond, “and let 
you know.” 

“Thank you,” said Nanny. “You and Jim ought 
to be friends.” 

“But what did the man in the moon say, when you 
told him you had seen him with the bundle of sticks 
on his back?” 

“He laughed. But I thought he looked offended 
too. His little nose turned up sharper, and he drew 
the corners of his mouth down from the tips of his 
ears into his neck. But he didn’t look cross, you 
know. ’ ’ 

“Didn’t he say anything?” 

279 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


“Oh, yes! He said: ‘That’s all nonsense. What 
yon saw was my bundle of dusters. I was going to 
clean the windows. It takes a good many, you 
know. Eeally, what they do say of their superiors 
down there!’ ‘It’s only because they don’t know 
better,’ I ventured to say. ‘Of course, of course,’ 
said the little man. ‘Nobody ever does know better. 
Well, I forgive them, and that sets it all right, I 
hope.’ ‘It’s very good of you,’ I said. ‘No!’ said 
he, ‘it’s not in the least good of me. I couldn’t be 
comfortable otherwise.’ After this he said nothing 
for a while, and I laid myself on the floor of his 
garret, and stared up and around at the great blue 
beautifulness. I had forgotten him almost, when 
at last he said: ‘Ain’t you done yet?’ ‘Done what?’ 
I asked. ‘Done saying your prayers,’ says he. ‘I 
wasn’t saying my prayers,’ I answered. ‘Oh yes, 
you were,’ said he, ‘ though you didn’t know it! And 
now I must show you something else.’ 

“He took my hand and led me down the stair 
again, and through a narrow passage, and through 
another, and another, and another. I don’t know 
how there could be room for so many passages in 
such a little house. The heart of it must be ever 
so much farther from the sides than they are from 
each other. How could it have an inside that was so 
independent of its outside? There’s the point. It 
was funny—wasn’t it, Diamond?” 

“No,” said Diamond. He was going to say that 
that was very much the sort of thing at the back 
of the north wind; but he checked himself and only 
added, “All right. I don’t see it. I don’t see why 
280 


NANNY’S DREAM 


the inside should depend on the outside. It ain’t 
so with the crabs. They creep out of their outsides 
and make new ones. Mr. Raymond told me so.” 

“I don’t see what that has got to do with it,” 
said Nanny. 

“Then go on with your story, please,” said Dia¬ 
mond. “What did you come to, after going through 
all those winding passages into the heart of the 
moon?” 

“I didn’t say they were winding passages. I said 
they were long and narrow. They didn’t wind. 
They went by corners.” 

“That’s worth knowing,” remarked Diamond. 
‘ ‘ For who knows how soon he may have to go there ? 
But the main thing is, what did you come to at last?” 

“We came to a small box against the wall of a 
tiny room. The little man told mef to put my ear 
against it. I did so, and heard a noise something 
like the purring of a cat, only not so loud, and much 
sweeter. ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Don’t you know 
the sound?’ returned the little man. ‘No,’ I an¬ 
swered. ‘Don’t you know the sound of bees?’ he 
said. I had never heard bees, and could not know 
the sound of them. ‘Those are my lady’s bees,’ he 
went on. I had heard that bees gather honey from 
the flowers. ‘But where are the flowers for them?’ 
I asked. ‘My lady’s bees gather their honey from 
the sun and the stars,’ said the little man. ‘Do let 
me see them,’ I said. ‘No. I daren’t do that,’ he 
answered. ‘I have no business with them. I don’t 
understand them. Besides, they are so bright that 
if one were to fly into your eye, it would blind you 
281 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


altogether. ’ ‘ Then you have seen them f’ ‘ Oh, yes! 

Once or twice, I think. But I don’t quite know: 
they are so very bright—like buttons of lightning. 
Now I’ve showed you all I can to-night, and we’ll 
go back to the room.’ I followed him, and he made 
me sit down under a lamp that hung from the roof, 
and gave me some bread and honey. 

“The lady had never moved. She sat with her 
forehead leaning on her hand, gazing out of the little 
window, hung like the rest with white cloudy cur¬ 
tains. From where I was sitting I looked out of it 
too, but I could see nothing. Her face was very 
beautiful, and very white, and very still, and her 
hand was as white as the forehead that leaned on it. 
I did not see her whole face—only the side of it, for 
she never moved to turn it full upon me, or even to 
look at me. 

“How long I sat after I had eaten my bread and 
honey, I don’t know. The little man was busy about 
the room, pulling a string here, and a string there, 
but chiefly the string at the back of the door. I was 
thinking with some uneasiness that he would soon 
be wanting me to go out and clean the windows, and 
I didn’t fancy the job. At last he came up to me 
with a great armful of dusters. ‘It’s time you set 
about the windows,’ he said; ‘for there’s rain com¬ 
ing, and if they’re quite clean before, then the rain 
can’t spoil them.’ I got up at once. ‘You needn’t 
be afraid,’ he said. ‘You won’t tumble off. Only 
you must be careful. Always hold on with one 
hand while you rub with the other.’ As he spoke, he 
opened the door. I started back in a terrible fright, 
282 


NANNY’S DREAM 


for there was nothing but blue air to be seen under 
me, like a great water without a bottom at all. But 
what must be must, and to live up here was so much 
nicer than down in the mud with boles in my shoes, 
that I never thought of not doing as I was told. 
The little man showed me how and where to lay hold 
while I put my foot round the edge of the door on 
to the first round of a ladder. ‘Once you’re up,’ he 
said, ‘you’ll see how you have to go well enough.’ 
I did as he told me, and crept out very carefully. 
Then the little man handed me the bundle of dusters, 
saying, ‘I always carry them on my reaping hook, 
but I don’t think you could manage it properly. You 
shall have it if you like.’ I wouldn’t take it, how¬ 
ever, for it looked dangerous. 

“I did the best I could with the dusters, and 
crawled up to the top of the moon. But what a 
grand sight it was! The stars were all over my 
head, so bright and so near that I could almost 
have laid hold of them. The round ball to which 
I clung went bobbing and floating away through the 
dark blue above and below and on every side. It 
was so beautiful that all fear left me, and I set to 
work diligently. I cleaned window after window. 
At length I came to a very little one, in at which I 
peeped. There was the room with the box of bees 
in it! I laid my ear to the window, and heard the 
musical hum quite distinctly. A great longing to 
see them came upon me, and I opened the window 
and crept in. The little box had a door like a closet. 
I opened it—the tiniest crack—when out came the 
light with such a sting that I closed it again in 
283 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

terror—not, however, before three bees had shot 
out into the room, where they darted about like 
flashes of lightning. Terribly frightened, I tried to 
get out of the window again, but I could not: there 
was no way to the outside of the moon but through 
the door; and that was in the room where the lady 
sat. No sooner had I reached the room, than the 
three bees, which had followed me, flew at once to 
the lady, and settled upon her hair. Then first I saw 
her move. She started, put up her hand, and caught 
them; then rose and, having held them into the flame 
of the lamp one after the other, turned to me. Her 
face was not so sad now as stern. It frightened 
me much. ‘ Nanny, you have got me into trouble/ 
she said. ‘ You have been letting out my bees, which 
it is all I can do to manage. You have forced me to 
burn them. It is a great loss, and there will be a 
storm.’ As she spoke, the clouds had gathered all 
about us. I could sjgeAhem come crowding up white 
about the windows. ‘I am sorry to find,’ said the 
lady, ‘that you are not to be trusted. You must go 
home again—you won’t do for us.’ Then came a 
great clap of thunder, and the moon rocked and 
swayed. All grew dark about me, and I fell on the 
floor, and lay half-stunned. I could hear everything 
but could see nothing. ‘Shall I throw her out of 
the door, my lady?’ said the little man. ‘No,’ she 
answered; ‘she’s not quite bad enough for that. I 
don’t think there’s much harm in her; only she’ll 
never do for us. She would make dreadful mischief 
up here. She’s only fit for the mud. It’s a great 
pity. I am sorry for her. Just take that ring off 

284 


NANNY’S DREAM 


her finger. I am sadly afraid she has stolen it.’ 
The little man caught hold of my hand, and I felt 
him tugging at the ring. I tried to speak what was 
true about it, but, after a terrible effort, only gave 
a groan. Other things began to come into my head. 
Somebody else had a hold of me. The little man 
wasn’t there. I opened my eyes at last, and saw 
the nurse. I had cried out in my sleep, and she 
had come and waked me. But, Diamond, for all it 
was only a dream, I cannot help being ashamed of 
myself yet for opening the lady’s box of bees.” 

“You wouldn’t do it again—would you—if she 
were to take you back?” said Diamond. 

“No. I don’t think anything would ever make 
me do it again. But where’s the good? I shall 
never have the chance.” 

“I don’t know that,” said Diamond. 

“You silly baby! It was only a dream,” said 
Nanny. 

“I know that, Nanny, dear. But how can you tell 
you mayn’t dream it again?” 

“That’s not a bit likely.” 

“I don’t know that,” said Diamond. 

“You’re always saying that,” said Nanny. “I 
don’t like it.” 

“Then I won’t say it again—if I don’t forget,” 
said Diamond. ‘ 6 But it was such a beautiful dream! 
—wasn’t it, Nanny? What a pity you opened that 
door and let the bees out! You might have had 
such a long dream, and such nice talks with the 
moon-lady! Do try to go again, Nanny. I do so 
want to hear more.” 


285 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


But now the nurse came and told him it was time 
to go; and Diamond went, saying to himself, “I 
can’t help thinking that North Wind had something 
to do with that dream. It would be tiresome to lie 
there all day and all night too—without dreaming. 
Perhaps if she hadn’t done that, the moon might 
have carried her to the back of the north wind—who 
knows V 9 









XXXI. 

THE NORTH WIND 
DOTH BLOW 



T was a great delight to Diamond 
when at length Nanny was well 
enough to leave the hospital and 
go home to their house. She 
was not very strong yet, but 
Diamond’s mother was very considerate of her, and 
took care that she should have nothing to do she 
was not quite fit for. If Nanny had been taken 
straight from the street, it is very probable she 
would not have been so pleasant in a decent house¬ 
hold, or so easy to teach; but after the refining in¬ 
fluences of her illness and the kind treatment she 
had had in the hospital, she moved about the house 
just like some rather sad pleasure haunting the 
mind. As she got better, and the colour came hack 
to her cheeks, her step grew lighter and quicker, her 
smile shone out more readily, and it became certain 
that she would soon be a treasure of help. It was 
great fun to see Diamond teaching her how to hold 
287 


















AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


the baby, and wash and dress him, and often they 
laughed together over her awkwardness. But she 
had not many such lessons before she was able to 
perform those duties quite as well as Diamond 
himself. 

Things however did not go well with Joseph 
from the very arrival of Buby. It almost seemed 
as if the red beast had brought ill luck with him. 
The fares were fewer, and the pay less. Buby’s ser¬ 
vices did indeed make the week’s income at first a 
little beyond what it used to be, but then there were 
two more to feed. After the first month he fell lame, 
and for the whole of the next Joseph dared not 
attempt to work him. I cannot say that he never 
grumbled, for his own health was far from what 
it had been; hut I can say that he tried to do his 
best. During all that month, they lived on very 
short commons indeed, seldom tasting meat except 
on Sundays, and poor old Diamond, who worked 
hardest of all, not even then—so that at the end of 
it he was as thin as a clothes-horse, while Buby was 
as plump and sleek as a bishop’s cob. 

Nor was it much better after Buby was able to 
work again, for it was a season of great depression 
in business, and that is very soon felt amongst the 
cabmen. City men look more after their shillings, 
and their wives and daughters have less to spend. 
It was besides a wet autumn, and bread rose greatly 
in price. When I add to this that Diamond’s mother 
was but poorly, for a new baby was coming, you will 
see that these were not very jolly times for our 
friends in the Mews. 


288 


THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW 


Notwithstanding the depressing influences around 
him, however, Joseph was able to keep a little hope 
alive in his heart; and when he came home at night, 
would get Diamond to read to him, and would also 
make Nanny produce her book that he might see 
how she was getting on. For Diamond had taken 
her education in hand, and as she was a clever child, 
she was very soon able to put letters and words 
together. 

Thus the three months passed away, but Mr. Ray¬ 
mond did not return. Joseph had been looking 
anxiously for him, chiefly with the desire of getting 
rid of Ruby—not that he was absolutely of no use 
to him, but that he was a constant weight upon his 
mind. Indeed, as far as provision went, he was 
rather worse off with Ruby and Nanny than he had 
been before, but on the other hand, Nanny was a 
great help in the house, and it was a comfort to him 
to think that when the new baby did come, Nanny 
would be with his wife. 

Of God’s gifts a baby is of the greatest; therefore 
it is no wonder that when this one came, she was as 
heartily welcomed by the little household as if she 
had brought plenty with her. Of course she made 
a great difference in the work to be done—far more 
difference than her size warranted, but Nanny was 
no end of help, and Diamond was as much of a sun¬ 
beam as ever, and began to sing to the new baby 
the first moment he got her in his arms. But he did 
not sing the same songs to her that he had sung to 
his brother; for, he said, she was a new baby and 
must have new songs; and besides, she was a sister- 
baby and not a brother-baby, and of course would 
19 289 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


not like the same kind of songs. Where the differ¬ 
ence in his songs lay, however, I do not pretend to 
be able to point out. One thing I am sure of, that 
they not only had no small share in the education of 
the little girl, but helped the whole family a great 
deal more than they were aware. 

How they managed to get through the long dreary 
expensive winter, I can hardly say. Sometimes 
things were better, sometimes worse. But at last 
the spring came, and the winter was over and gone, 
and that was much. Still Mr. Raymond did not 
return, and although the mother would have been 
able to manage without Nanny now, they could not 
look for a place for her so long as they had Ruby; 
and they were not altogether sorry for this. 

One week at last was worse than they had yet had. 
They were almost without bread before it was over. 
But the sadder he saw his father and mother look¬ 
ing, the more Diamond set himself to sing to the 
two babies. 

One thing which had increased their expenses was, 
that they had been forced to hire another little room 
for Nanny. When the second baby came, Diamond 
gave up his room that Nanny might be at hand to 
help his mother, and went to hers, which, although 
a fine place to what she had been accustomed to, was 
not very nice in his eyes. He did not mind the 
change though, for was not his mother the more 
comfortable for it? And was not Nanny more com¬ 
fortable too ? And indeed was not Diamond himself 
more comfortable that other people were more com¬ 
fortable? And if there was more comfort every 
way, the change was a happy one. 

290 


XXXII. 

DIAMOND AND RUBY 



T was Friday night, and Diamond, 
like the rest of the household, had 
had very little to eat that day. 
The mother would always pay 
the week’s rent before she laid 
out anything even on food. His father had been very 
gloomy—so gloomy that he had actually been cross 
to his wife. It is a strange thing how the pain of 
seeing the suffering of those we love will sometimes 
make us add to their suffering by being cross with 
them. This comes of not having faith enough in 
God, and shows how necessary this faith is, for when 
we lose it, we lose even the kindness which alone 
can soothe the suffering. Diamond in consequence 
had gone to bed very quiet and thoughtful—a little 
troubled indeed. 

It had been a very stormy winter; and even now 
that the spring had come, the north wind often blew. 
When Diamond went to his bed, which was in a tiny 
room in the roof, he heard it like the sea moaning; 


291 












AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


and when he fell asleep he still heard the moaning. 
All at once he said to himself, “Am I awake, or am 
I asleep? ”. But he had no time to answer the ques¬ 
tion, for there was North Wind calling him. His 
heart beat very fast, it was such a long time since 
he had heard that voice. He jumped out of bed, and 
looked everywhere, but could not see her. “Dia¬ 
mond, come here,” she said again and again; but 
where the here was he could not tell. To be sure 
the room was all but quite dark, and she might be 
close beside him. 

“Dear North Wind,” said Diamond, “I want so 
much to go to you, but I can’t tell where.” 

“Come here, Diamond,” was all her answer. 

Diamond opened the door, and went out of the 
room, and down the stair and into the yard. His 
little heart was in a flutter, for he had long given 
up all thought of seeing her again. Neither now 
was he to see her. When he got out, a great puff 
of wind came against him, and in obedience to it he 
turned his back, and went as it blew. It blew him 
right up to the stable-door, and went on blowing. 

“She wants me to go into the stable,” said Dia¬ 
mond to himself; “but the door is locked.” 

He knew where the key was, in a certain hole in 
the wall—far too high for him to get at. He ran 
to the place, however; just as he reached it there 
came a wild blast, and down fell the key clanging on 
the stones at his feet. He picked it up, and ran back 
and opened the stable-door, and went in. And what 
do you think he saw? 

A little light came through the dusty window from 


292 


DIAMOND AND RUBY 


a gas-lamp, sufficient to show him Diamond and 
Ruby with their two heads up, looking at each other 
across the partition of their stalls. The light 
showed the white mark on Diamond’s forehead, but 
Ruby’s eye shone so bright, that he thought more 
light came out of it than went in. This is what 
he saw. 

But what do you think he heard ? 

He heard the two horses talking to each other— 
in a strange language, which, yet, somehow or other, 
he could understand, and turn over in his mind in 
English. The first words he heard were from Dia¬ 
mond, who apparently had been already quarrelling 
with Ruby. 

“Look how fat you are, Ruby!” said old Dia¬ 
mond. “You are so plump and your skin shines so, 
you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” 

“There’s no harm in being fat,” said Ruby in a 
deprecating tone. “No, nor in being sleek. I may 
as well shine as not.” 

“No harm?” retorted Diamond. “Is it no harm 
to go eating up all poor master’s oats, and taking 
up so much of his time grooming you, when you only 
work six hours—no, not six hours a day, and, as I 
hear, get along no faster than a big dray-horse with 
two tons behind him?—So they tell me.” 

“Your master’s not mine,” said Ruby. “I must 
attend to my own master’s interests, and eat all that 
is given me, and be as sleek and fat as I can, and 
go no faster than I need.” 

“Now really if the rest of the horses weren’t all 
asleep, poor things —they work till they’re tired—I 

293 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


do believe they would get up and kick you out of the 
stable. You make me ashamed of being a horse. 
You dare to say my master ain’t your master! 
That’s your gratitude for the way he feeds you and 
spares you! Pray where would your carcass be if 
it weren’t for him!” 

“He doesn’t do it for my sake. If I were his own 
horse, he would work me as hard as he does you.” 

“And I’m proud to be so worked. I wouldn’t be 
as fat as you—not for all you’re worth. You’re a 
disgrace to the stable. Look at the horse next you. 
He’s something like a horse—all skin and bone. And 
his master ain’t over kind to him either. He put a 
stinging lash on his whip last week. But that old 
horse knows he’s got the wife and children to keep— 
as well as his drunken master—and he works like a 
horse. I daresay he grudges his master the beer 
he drinks, but I don’t believe he grudges anything 
else.” 

“Well, I don’t grudge yours what he gets by me,” 
said Ruby. 

“Gets!” retorted Diamond. “What he gets 
isn’t worth grudging. It comes to next to not hin g— 
what with your fat and your shine. ’ ’ 

“Well, at least you ought to be thankful you’re 
the better for it. You get a two hours’ rest a day 
out of it.” 

“I thank my master for that—not you, you lazy 
fellow! You go along like a buttock of beef upon 
castors—you do.” 

“Ain’t you afraid I’ll kick, if you go on like that, 
Diamond!” 

“Kick! You couldn’t kick if you tried. You 

294 


DIAMOND AND RUBY 


might heave your rump up half a foot, but for lash¬ 
ing out—oho! If you did, you’d be down on your 
belly before you could get your legs under you again. 
It’s my belief, once out, they’d stick out for ever. 
Talk of kicking! Why don’t you put one foot before 
the other now and then when you’re in the cab? 
The abuse master gets for your sake is quite shame¬ 
ful. No decent horse would bring it on him. De¬ 
pend upon it, Ruby, no cabman likes to be abused 
any more than his fare. But his fares, at least when 
you are between the shafts, are very much to be 
excused. Indeed they are.” 

‘‘Well, you see, Diamond, I don’t want to go lame 
again.” 

“I don’t believe you were so very lame after all— 
there! ’ ’ 

‘ i Oh, but I was. ’ ’ 

*‘Then I believe it was all your own fault. I’m 
not lame. I never was lame in all my life. You 
don’t take care of your legs. You never lay them 
down at night. There you are with your huge car¬ 
cass crushing down your poor legs all night long. 
You don’t even care for your own legs—so long as 
you can eat, eat, and sleep, sleep. You a horse 
indeed! ’ ’ 

“But I tell you I ivcis lame.” 

“I’m not denying there was a puffy look about 
your off-pastern. But my belief is, it wasn’t even 
grease—it was fat.” 

“I tell you I put my foot on one of those horrid 
stones they make the roads with, and it gave my 
ankle such a twist.” 

“Ankle indeed! Why should you ape your bet- 
295 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


ters ? Horses ain ’t got any ankles: they ’re only pas¬ 
terns. And so long as you don’t lift your feet better, 
but fall asleep between every step, you’ll run a good 
chance of laming all your ankles as you call them, 
one after another. It’s not your lively horse that 
comes to grief in that way. I tell you I believe it 
wasn’t much, and if it was, it was your own fault. 
There! I’ve done. I’m going to sleep. I’ll try to 
think as well of you as I can. If you would but 
step out a hit and run off a little of your fat!” 

Here Diamond began to double up his knees; but 
Euby spoke again, and, as young Diamond thought, 
in a rather different tone. 

“I say, Diamond, I can’t hear to have an honest 
old horse like you, think of me like that. I will tell 
you the truth: it was my own fault that I fell lame.” 

“I told you so,” returned the other, tumbling 
against the partition as he rolled over on his side 
to give his legs every possible privilege in their 
narrow circumstances. 

“I meant to do it, Diamond.” 

At the words, the old horse arose with a scramble 
like thunder, shot his angry head and glaring eye 
over into Euby’s stall, and said— 

“Keep out of my way, you unworthy wretch, or 
I ’ll bite you. You a horse! Why did you do that! ’ ’ 
“Because I wanted to grow fat.” 

“You grease-tub! Oh! my teeth and tail! I 
thought you were a humbug! Why did you want 
to get fat? There’s no truth to be got out of you 
but by cross-questioning. You ain’t fit to be a 
horse.” 


296 


DIAMOND AND RUBY 


“Because once I am fat, my nature is to keep fat 
for a long time; and I didn’t know when master 
might come home and want to see me.” 

“You conceited, good-for-nothing brute! You’re 
only fit for the knacker’s yard. You wanted to look 
handsome, did you? Hold your tongue, or I’ll break 
my halter and be at you—with your handsome fat!” 

“Never mind, Diamond. You’re a good horse. 
You can’t hurt me.” 

“Can’t hurt you! Just let me once try.” 

“No, you can’t.” 

“Why then?” 

“Because I’m an angel.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Of course you don’t know.” 

“Indeed I don’t.” 

“I know you don’t. An ignorant, rude old human 
horse, like you, couldn’t know it. But there’s young 
Diamond listening to all we ’re saying; and he knows 
well enough there are horses in heaven for angels 
to ride upon, as well as other animals, lions and 
eagles and bulls, in more important situations. The 
horses the angels ride, must be angel-horses, else 
the angels couldn’t ride upon them. Well, I’m one 
of them.” 

“You ain’t.” 

11 Did you ever know a horse tell a lie ? ” 

“Never before. But you’ve confessed to sham¬ 
ming lame. ’ ’ 

“Nothing of the sort. It was necessary I should 
grow fat, and necessary that good Joseph, your mas¬ 
ter, should grow lean. I could have pretended to 
297 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


be lame, but that no horse, least of all an angel- 
horse, would do. So I must be lame, and so I 
sprained my ankle—for the angel-horses have ankles 
—they don’t talk horse-slang up there—and it hurt 
me very much, I assure you, Diamond, though you 
mayn’t be good enough to be able to believe it.” 

Old Diamond made no reply. He had lain down 
again, and a sleepy snort, very like a snore, revealed 
that, if he was not already asleep, he was past under¬ 
standing a word that Ruby was saying. When 
young Diamond found this, he thought he might 
venture to take up the dropt shuttlecock of the 
conversation. 

“I’m good enough to believe it, Ruby,” he said. 

But Ruby never turned his head, or took any 
notice of him. I suppose he did not understand 
more of English than just what the coachman and 
stableman were in the habit of addressing him with. 
Finding, however, that his companion made no reply, 
he shot his head over the partition and looking down 
at him said— 

“You just wait till to-morrow, and you’ll see 
whether I’m speaking the truth or not.—I declare 
the old horse is fast asleep!—Diamond!—No I 
won’t.” 

Ruby turned away, and began pulling at his hay¬ 
rack in silence. 

Diamond gave a shiver, and looking round saw 
that the door of the stable was open. He began to 
feel as if he had been dreaming, and after a glance 
about the stable to see if North Wind was anywhere 
visible, he thought he had better go back to bed. 

298 


XXXIII. 

THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS 



HE next morning, Diamond’s 
mother said to his father, “I’m 
not quite comfortable about that 
child again.” 

“Which child, Martha?” asked 
Joseph. “You’ve got a choice now.” 

“Well, Diamond I mean. I’m afraid he’s getting 
into his queer ways again. He’s been at his old 
trick of walking in his sleep. I saw him run up the 
stair in the middle of the night. ’ ’ 

“Didn’t you go after him, wife?” 

“Of course I did—and found him fast asleep in his 
bed. It’s because he’s had so little meat for the last 
six weeks, I’m afraid.” 

“It may be that. I’m very sorry. But if it don’t 
please God to send us enough, what am I to do, 
wife?” 

“You can’t help it, I know, my dear good man,” 
returned Martha. “And after all I don’t know. I 
don’t see why he shouldn’t get on as well as the rest 

299 










AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

of us. There I’m nursing baby all this time, and 
I get along pretty well. I’m sure, to hear the little 
man singing, you wouldn’t think there was much 
amiss with him.” 

For at that moment Diamond was singing like a 
lark in the clouds. He had the new baby in his 
arms, while his mother was dressing herself. Joseph 
was sitting at his breakfast—a little weak tea, dry 
bread, and very dubious butter—which Nanny had 
set for him, and which he was enjoying because he 
was hungry. He had groomed both horses, and had 
got old Diamond harnessed ready to put to. 

‘ 1 Think of a fat angel, Dulcimer!” said Diamond. 

The baby had not been christened yet, but Dia¬ 
mond, in reading his Bible, had come upon the word 
dulcimer , and thought it so pretty that ever after 
he called his sister Dulcimer! 

“Think of a red fat angel, Dulcimer!” he re¬ 
peated; “for Ruby’s an angel of a horse, Dulcimer. 
He sprained his ankle and got fat on purpose.” 

“What purpose, Diamond?” asked his father. 

•“Ah! that I can’t tell. I suppose to look hand^ 
some when his master comes,” answered Dia¬ 
mond.—“What do you think, Dulcimer? It must 
be for some good, for Ruby’s an angel.” 

“I wish I were rid of him, anyhow,” said his 
father; “for he weighs heavy on my mind.” 

“No wonder, father: he’s so fat,” said Diamond. 
“But you needn’t be afraid, for everybody says he’s 
in better condition than when you had him.” 

“Yes, but he may be as thin as a tin horse before 
his owner comes. It was too bad to leave him on my 
hands this way.” 


300 


THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS 


“Perhaps he couldn’t help it,” suggested Dia¬ 
mond. “I daresay he has some good reason for it.” 

44 So I should have said,’ 9 returned his father, 4 4 if 
he had not driven such a hard bargain with me at 
first.” 

44 But we don’t know what may come of it yet, 
husband,” said his wife. 44 Mr. Raymond may give 
a little to boot, seeing you’ve had more of the bar¬ 
gain than you wanted or reckoned upon.” 

44 I’m afraid not: he’s a hard man,” said Joseph, 
as he rose and went to get his cab out. 

Diamond resumed his singing. For some time he 
carolled snatches of everything or anything; but at 
last it settled down into something like what follows. 
I cannot tell where or how he got it. 

Where did you come from, baby dear? 

Out of the everywhere into here. 

Where did you get your eyes so blue? 

Out of the sky as I came through. 

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? 

Some of the starry spikes left in. 

Where did you get that little tear? 

I found it waiting when I got here. 

What makes your forehead so smooth and high? 

A soft hand stroked it as I went by. 

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? 

I saw something better than any one knows. 

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss? 

Three angels gave me at once a kiss. 

Where did you get this pearly ear? 

God spoke, and it came out to hear. 

301 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Where did you get those arms and hands? 

Love made itself into hooks and bands. 

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? 
From the same box as the cherubs’ wings. 

How did they all just come to be you? 

God thought about me, and so I grew. 

But how did you come to us, you dear? 

God thought about you, and so I am here. 


“You never made that song, Diamond/’ said his 
mother. 

“No, mother. I wish I had. No, I don’t. That 
wonld he to take it from somebody else. But it’s 
mine for all that.” 

‘ ‘ What makes it yours ? ’ ’ 

“I love it so.” 

“Does loving a thing make it yours?” 

“I think so, mother—at least more than anything 
else can. If I didn’t love baby (which couldn’t be, 
you know), she wouldn’t be mine a bit. But I do 
love baby, and baby is my very own Dulcimer.” 

“The baby’s mine, Diamond.” 

‘ ‘ That makes her the more mine, mother. ’ ’ 

“How do you make that out?” 

“Because you’re mine, mother.” 

“Is that because you love me?” 

“Yes, just because. Love makes the only my- 
ness,” said Diamond. 

When his father came home to have his dinner, and 
change Diamond for Ruby, they saw him look very 
sad, and he told them he had not had a fare worth 
mentioning the whole morning. 

302 


THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS 


“ We shall all have to go to the workhouse, wife,” 
he said. 

‘ 4 It would be better to go to the back of the north 
wind, ’ ’ said Diamond, dreamily, not intending to say 
it aloud. 

“So it would,” answered his father. “But how 
are we to get there, Diamond?” 

“We must wait till we’re taken,” returned Dia¬ 
mond. 

Before his father could speak again, a knock came 
to the door, and in walked Mr. Raymond with a 
smile on his face. Joseph got up and received him 
respectfully, but not very cordially. Martha set a 
chair for him, but he would not sit down. 

“You are not very glad to see me,” he said to 
Joseph. “You don’t want to part with the old 
horse.” 

“Indeed, sir, you are mistaken there. What with 
anxiety about him, and bad luck, I’ve wished I were 
rid of him a thousand times. It was only to be for 
three months, and here it’s eight or nine.” 

“I’m sorry to hear such a statement,” said Mr. 
Raymond. ‘ ‘ Hasn’t he been of service to you! ’ ’ 

“Not much, not with his lameness-” 

“Ah!” said Mr. Raymond, hastily—“you’ve been 
laming him—have you? That accounts for it. I 
see, I see.” 

“It wasn’t my fault, and he’s all right now. I 
don’t know how it happened, but-” 

“He did it on purpose,” said Diamond. “He put 
his foot on a stone just to twist his ankle.” 

“How do you know that, Diamond?” said his 
303 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

father, turning to him. ‘ 1 1 never said so, for I could 
not think how it came.” 

“I heard it—in the stable,” answered Diamond. 

4 ‘Let’s have a look at him,” said Mr. Raymond. 

“If you’ll step into the yard,” said Joseph, “I’ll 
bring him out.” 

They went, and Joseph, having first taken off his 
harness, walked Ruby into the middle of the yard. 

“Why,” said Mr. Raymond, “you’ve not been 
using him well.” 

“I don’t know what you mean by that, sir. I 
didn’t expect to hear that from you. He’s sound in 
wind and limb—as sound as a barrel.” 

“And as big, you might add. Why, he’s as fat as 
a pig! You don’t call that good usage!” 

Joseph was too angry to make any answer. 

“You’ve not worked him enough, I say. That’s 
not making a good use of him. That’s not doing as 
you’d be done by.” 

“I shouldn’t be sorry if I was served the same, 
sir.” 

“He’s too fat, I say.” 

“There was a whole month I couldn’t work him 
at all, and he did nothing but eat his head off. He’s 
an awful eater. I’ve taken the best part of six 
hours a day out of him since, but I’m always afraid 
of his coming to grief again, and so I couldn’t make 
the most even of that. I declare to you, sir, when 
he’s between the shafts, I sit on the box as miserable 
as if I’d stolen him. He looks all the time as if he 
was a bottling up of complaints to make of me the 
minute he set eyes on you again. There! look at him 

304 


THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS 

now, squinting round at me with one eye! I declare 
to you, on my word, I haven’t laid the whip on him 
more than three times.’’ 

“I’m glad to hear it. He never did want the 
whip. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I didn’t say that, sir. If ever a horse wanted the 
whip, he do. He’s brought me to beggary almost 
with his snail’s pace. I’m very glad you’ve come 
to rid me of him. ’ ’ 

“I don’t know that,” said Mr. Raymond. “Sup¬ 
pose I were to ask you to buy him of me—cheap.” 

“I wouldn’t have him in a present, sir. I don’t 
like him. And I wouldn’t drive a horse that I didn’t 
like—no, not for gold. It can’t come to good where 
there’s no love between ’em. ’ ’ 

“ Just bring out your own horse, and let me see 
what sort of a pair they’d make.” 

Joseph laughed rather bitterly as he went to fetch 
Diamond. 

When the two were placed side by side, Mr. Ray¬ 
mond could hardly keep his countenance, but from 
a mingling of feelings. Beside the great red round 
barrel Ruby, all body and no legs, Diamond looked 
like a clothes-horse with a skin thrown over it. 
There was hardly a spot of him where you could not 
descry some sign of a bone underneath. Gaunt and 
grim and weary he stood, kissing his master, and 
heeding no one else. 

“You haven’t been using him well,” said Mr. 
Raymond. 

“I must say,” returned Joseph, throwing an arm 
round his horse’s neck, “that the remark had better 

305 


20 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

have been spared, sir. The horse is worth three of 
the other now.” 

“I don’t think so. I think they make a very nice 
pair. If the one’s too fat, the other’s too lean—so 
that’s all right. And if you won’t buy my Ruby, I 
must buy your Diamond.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Joseph, in a tone implying 
anything but thanks. 

“You don’t seem to like the proposal,” said Mr. 
Raymond. 

“I don’t,” returned Joseph. “I wouldn’t part 
with my old Diamond for his skin as full of nuggets 
as it is of bones.” 

‘ 4 Who said anything about parting with him! ’ ’ 

“You did now, sir.” 

“No; I didn’t. I only spoke of buying him to 
make a pair with Ruby. We could pare Ruby and 
patch Diamond a bit. And for height, they are as 
near a match as I care about. Of course you would 
be the coachman—if only you would consent to be 
reconciled to Ruby.” 

Joseph stood bewildered, unable to answer. 

“I’ve bought a small place in Kent,” continued 
Mr. Raymond, “and I must have a pair to my car¬ 
riage, for the roads are hilly thereabouts. I don’t 
want to make a show with a pair of high-steppers. 
I think these will just do. Suppose for a week or 
two, you set yourself to take Ruby down and bring 
Diamond up. If we could only lay a pipe from 
Ruby’s sides into Diamond’s, it would be the work 
of a moment. But I fear that wouldn’t answer.” 

A strong inclination to laugh intruded upon 

306 


THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS 


Joseph’s inclination to cry, and made speech still 
harder than before. 

“I beg yonr pardon, sir,” he said at length. “I’ve 
been so miserable, and for so long, that I never 
thought you was only a chaffing of me when you said 
I hadn’t used the horses well. I did grumble at you, 
sir, many’s the time in my trouble; but whenever I 
said anything, my little Diamond would look at me 
with a smile, as much as to say: ‘I know him better 
than you, father;’ and upon my word, I always 
thought the boy must be right.” 

“Will you sell me old Diamond then?” 

“I will, sir, on one condition—that if ever you 
want to part with him or me, you give me the option 
of buying him. I could not part with him, sir. As 
to who calls him his, that’s nothing; for, as Diamond 
says, it’s only loving a thing that can make it yours 
—and I do love old Diamond, sir, dearly.” 

“Well, there’s a cheque for twenty pounds, which 
I wrote to offer you for him, in case I should find 
you had done the handsome thing by Ruby. Will 
that be enough ? ’ ’ 

“It’s too much, sir. His body ain’t worth it— 
shoes and all. It’s only his heart, sir—that’s worth 
millions—but his heart’ll be mine all the same—so 
it’s too much, sir.” 

“I don’t think so. It won’t be, at least, by the 
time we’ve got him fed up again. You take it and 
welcome. Just go on with your cabbing for another 
month, only take it out of Ruby and let Diamond 
rest; and by that time I shall be ready for you to go 
down into the country.” 


307 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


4 ‘Thank yon, sir; thank you. Diamond set you 
down for a friend, sir, the moment he saw you. I 
do believe that child of mine knows more than other 
people.’ ’ 

“I think so too,” said Mr. Raymond as he walked 
away. 

He had meant to test Joseph when he made the 
bargain about Ruby, but had no intention of so 
greatly prolonging the trial. He had been taken ill 
in Switzerland, and had been quite unable to return 
sooner. He went away now highly gratified at find¬ 
ing that he had stood the test, and was a true man. 

Joseph rushed in to his wife who had been stand¬ 
ing at the window anxiously waiting the result of 
the long colloquy. When she heard that the horses 
were to go together in double harness, she burst 
forth into an immoderate fit of laughter. Diamond 
came up with the baby in his arms and made big 
anxious eyes at her, saying— 

“What is the matter with you, mother dear? Do 
cry a little. It will do you good. When father 
takes ever so small a drop of spirits, he puts water 
to it.” 

“You silly darling!” said his mother; “how could 
I but laugh at the notion of that great fat Ruby 
going side by side with our poor old Diamond?” 

“But why not, mother? With a month’s oats, 
and nothing to do, Diamond’ll be nearer Ruby’s size 
than you will father’s. I think it’s very good for 
different sorts to go together. Now Ruby will have 
a chance of teaching Diamond better manners.” 

“How dare you say such a thing, Diamond?” said 
308 


THE PROSPECT BRIGHTENS 

his father, angrily. “To compare the two for man¬ 
ners, there’s no comparison possible. Onr Dia¬ 
mond’s a gentleman.” 

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t, father; for I dare¬ 
say some gentlemen judge their neighbours unjustly. 
That’s all I mean. Diamond shouldn’t have thought 
such bad things of Ruby. He didn’t try to make the 
best of him.” 

“How do you know that, pray?” 

“I heard them talking about it one night.” 

“Who?” 

“Why, Diamond and Ruby. Ruby’s an angel.” 

Joseph stared and said no more. For all his new 
gladness, he was very gloomy as he re-harnessed the 
angel, for he thought his darling Diamond was going 
out of his mind. 

He could not help thinking rather differently, how¬ 
ever, when he found the change that had come over 
Ruby. Considering his fat, he exerted himself 
amazingly, and got over the ground with incredible 
speed. So willing, even anxious, was he to go now, 
that Joseph had to hold him quite tight. 

Then as he laughed at his own fancies, a new fear 
came upon him lest the horse should break his wind, 
and Mr. Raymond have good cause to think he had 
not been using him well. He might even suppose 
that he had taken advantage of his new instructions, 
to let out upon the horse some of his pent-up dislike; 
whereas in truth, it had so utterly vanished that he 
felt as if Ruby too had been his friend all the time. 


XXXIV. 

IN THE COUNTRY 



EFORE the end of the month, 
Ruby had got respectably thin, 
and Diamond respectably stout. 
They really began to look fit for 
double harness. 

Joseph and his wife got their affairs in order, 
and everything ready for migrating at the shortest 
notice; and they felt so peaceful and happy that they 
judged all the trouble they had gone through well 
worth enduring. As for Nanny, she had been so 
happy ever since she left the hospital, that she ex¬ 
pected nothing better, and saw nothing attractive in 
the notion of the country. At the same time, she 
had not the least idea of what the word country 
meant, for she had never seen anything about her 
but streets and gas-lamps. Besides, she was more 
attached to Jim than to Diamond: Jim was a reason¬ 
able being, Diamond in her eyes at best only an 
amiable, over-grown baby, whom no amount of ex¬ 
postulation would ever bring to talk sense, not to say 











IN THE COUNTRY 


These were very different times from those when 
he nsed to drive the cab, but you must not suppose 
that Diamond was idle. He did not do so much for 
his mother now, because Nanny occupied his former 
place; but he helped his father still, both in the stable 
and the harness-room, and generally went with him 
on the box that he might learn to drive a pair, and be 
ready to open the carriage-door. Mr. Raymond 
advised his father to give him plenty of liberty. 

“A boy like that,” he said, “ought not to be 
pushed. ’’ 

Joseph assented heartily, smiling to himself at the 
idea of pushing Diamond. After doing everything 
that fell to his share, the boy had a wealth of time 
at his disposal. And a happy, sometimes a merry 
time it was. Only for two months or so, he neither 
saw nor heard anything of North Wind. 







XXXV. 

I MAKE DIAMOND’S 
ACQUAINTANCE 



R. RAYMOND’S house was called 
The Mound, because it stood 
upon a little steep knoll, so 
smooth and symmetrical that it 
showed itself at once to be arti¬ 
ficial. It had, beyond doubt, been built for Queen 
Elizabeth as a hunting-tower—a place, namely, from 
the top of which you could see the country for miles 
on all sides, and so be able to follow with your eyes 
the flying deer and the pursuing hounds and horse¬ 
men. The mound had been cast up to give a good 
basement-advantage over the neighbouring heights 
and woods. There was a great quarry-hole not far 
off, brimful of water, from which, as the current 
legend stated, the materials forming the heart of the 
mound—a kind of stone unfit for building—had been 
dug. The house itself was of brick, and they said 
the foundations were first laid in the natural level, 

316 
















I MAKE DIAMOND’S ACQUAINTANCE 

and then the stones and earth of the monnd were 
heaped about and between them, so that its great 
height should be well buttressed. 

Joseph and his wife lived in a little cottage a short 
way from the house. It was a real cottage, with a 
roof of thick thatch, which, in June and July, the 
wind sprinkled with the red and white petals it shook 
from the loose topmost sprays of the rose-trees 
climbing the walls. At first Diamond had a nest 
under this thatch—a pretty little room with white 
muslin curtains; hut afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Ray¬ 
mond wanted to have him for a page in the house, 
and his father and mother were quite pleased to 
have him employed without his leaving them. So 
he was dressed in a suit of blue, from which his pale 
face and fair hair came out like the loveliest blos¬ 
som, and took up his abode in the house. 

* ‘ Would you he afraid to sleep alone, Diamond ?” 
asked his mistress. 

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am,” said Dia¬ 
mond. “I never was afraid of anything that I can 
recollect—not much, at least.” 

“ There’s a little room at the top of the house—all 
alone,” she returned: ‘'perhaps you would not mind 
sleeping there?” 

“I can sleep anywhere, and I like best to be high 
up. Should I he able to see out?” 

“I will show you the place,” she answered; and 
taking him by the hand, she led him up and up the 
oval-winding stair in one of the two towers. 

Near the top they entered a tiny little room, with 
two windows from which you could see over the 
317 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


whole country. Diamond clapped his hands with 
delight. 

“You would like this room, then, Diamond!” said 
his mistress. 

“IDs the grandest room in the house,” he an¬ 
swered. “I shall be near the stars, and yet not far 
from the tops of the trees. That’s just what I like.” 

I daresay he thought also, that it would be a nice 
place for North Wind to call at in passing; but he 
said nothing of that sort. Below him spread a lake 
of green leaves, with glimpses of grass here and 
there at the bottom of it. As he looked down, he 
saw a squirrel appear suddenly, and as suddenly 
vanish amongst the topmost branches. 

“Aha! little squirrel,” he cried, “my nest is built 
higher than yours. ’ 9 

“You can be up here with your books as much as 
you like,” said his mistress. “I will have a little 
bell hung at the door, which I can ring when I want 
you. Half-way down the stair is the drawing¬ 
room.” 

So Diamond was installed as page, and his new 
room got ready for him. 

It was very soon after this that I came to know 
Diamond. I was then a tutor in a family whose es¬ 
tate adjoined the little property belonging to The 
Mound. I had made the acquaintance of Mr. Bay- 
mond in London some time before, and was walking 
up the drive towards the house to call upon him one 
fine warm evening, when I saw Diamond for the first 
time. He was sitting at the foot of a great beech- 
tree, a few yards from the road, with a book on his 

318 


I MAKE DIAMOND’S ACQUAINTANCE 

knees. He did not see me. I walked up behind the 
tree, and peeping over his shoulder, saw that he was 
reading a fairy-book. 

“What are you reading!” I said, and spoke sud¬ 
denly, with the hope of seeing a startled little face 
look round at me. Diamond turned his head as 
quietly as if he were only obeying his mother’s voice, 
and the calmness of his face rebuked my unkind 
desire and made me ashamed of it. 

“Iam reading the story of the Little Lady and the 
Goblin Prince,” said Diamond. 

“I am sorry I don’t know the story,” I returned. 
“Who is it by!” 

“Mr. Raymond made it.” 

“Is he your uncle!” I asked at a guess. 

“No. He’s my master.” 

“What do you do for him!” I asked respectfully. 

“Anything he wishes me to do,” he answered. 
“I am busy for him now. He gave me this story 
to read. He wants my opinion upon it. ’ ’ 

“Don’t you find it rather hard to make up your 
mind!” 

“Oh dear no! Any story always tells me itself 
what I’m to think about it. Mr. Raymond doesn’t 
want me to say whether it is a clever story or not, 
but whether I like it, and why I like it. I never 
can tell what they call clever from what they call 
silly, but I always know whether I like a story or 
not.” 

“And can you always tell why you like it or not!” 

“No. Very often I can’t at all. Sometimes I 
can. I always know, but I can’t always tell why. 

319 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Mr. Raymond writes the stories, and then tries them 
on me. Mother does the same when she makes 
jam. She’s made such a lot of jam since we came 
here! And she always makes me taste it to see 
if it’ll do. Mother knows by the face I make whether 
it will or not. ’ ’ 

At this moment I caught sight of two more chil¬ 
dren approaching. One was a handsome girl, the 
other a pale-faced, awkward-looking boy, who 
limped much on one leg. I withdrew a little, to see 
what would follow, for they seemed in some conster¬ 
nation. After a few hurried words, they went off 
together, and I pursued my way to the house, where 
I was as kindly received by Mr. and Mrs. Raymond 
as I could have desired. From them I learned some¬ 
thing of Diamond, and was in consequence the more 
glad to find him, when I returned, seated in the same 
place as before. 

“What did the boy and girl want with you, Dia¬ 
mond?” I asked. 

“They had seen a creature that frightened them.” 

“And they came to tell you about it?” 

“They couldn’t get water out of the well for it. 
So they wanted me to go with them.” 

“They’re both bigger than you.” 

“Yes, but they were frightened at it.” 

* ‘ And weren’t you frightened at it ? ” 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m silly. I’m never frightened at 
things. ’ ’ 

I could not help thinking of the old meaning of the 
word silly . 


320 


I MAKE DIAMOND’S ACQUAINTANCE 

“And what was it?” I asked. 

“I think it was a kind of an angel—a very little 
one. It had a long body and great wings, which it 
drove about it so fast that they grew a thin cloud all 
round it. It flew backwards and forwards over the 
well, or hung right in the middle, making a mist of 
its wings, as if its business was to take care of the 
water. ’’ 

“And what did you do to drive it away?” 

“I didn’t drive it away. I knew, whatever the 
creature was, the well was to get water out of. So 
I took the jug, dipped it in, and drew the water.” 

“And what did the creature do?” 

“Flew about.” 

“And it didn’t hurt you?” 

“No. Why should it? I wasn’t doing anything 
wrong.” 

“What did your companions say then?” 

‘ 1 They said—‘ Thank you, Diamond. What a dear 
silly you are!’ ” 

“And weren’t you angry with them?” 

“ No! Why should I ? I should like if they would 
play with me a little; but they always like better to 
go away together when their work is over. They 
never heed me. I don’t mind it much, though. The 
other creatures are friendly. They don’t run away 
from me. Only they’re all so busy with their own 
work, they don’t mind me much.” 

i 1 Do you feel lonely, then ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, no! When nobody minds me, I get into my 
nest, and look up. And then the sky does mind me, 
and thinks about me.” 

“Where is your nest?” 

21 


321 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

He rose, saying, “I will show you,” and led me 
to the other side of the tree. 

There hung a little rope-ladder from one of the 
lower boughs. The boy climbed up the ladder and 
got upon the bough. Then he climbed further into 
the leafy branches, and went out of sight. 

After a little while, I heard his voice coming 
down out of the tree. 

“I am in my nest now,” said the voice. 

“I can’t see you,” I returned. 

“I can’t see you either, but I can see the first 
star peeping out of the sky. I should like to get up 
into the sky. Don’t you think I shall, some day?” 

* ‘ Yes, I do. Tell me what more you see up there . 9 9 

“I don’t see anything more, except a few leaves, 
and the big sky over me. It goes swinging about. 
The earth is all behind my back. There comes an¬ 
other star! The wind is like kisses from a big 
lady. When I get up here I feel as if I were in 
North Wind’s arms.” 

This was the first I heard of North Wind. 

The whole ways and look of the child, so full of 
quiet wisdom, yet so ready to accept the judgment 
of others in his own dispraise, took hold of my 
heart, and I felt myself wonderfully drawn towards 
him. It seemed to me, somehow, as if little Diamond 
possessed the secret of life, and was himself what 
he was so ready to think the lowest living thing—an 
angel of God with something special to say or do. 
A gush of reverence came over me, and with a single 
good-night, I turned and left him in his nest. 

I saw him often after this, and gained so much 

322 






I MAKE DIAMOND’S ACQUAINTANCE 

of his confidence that he told me all I have told yon. 
I cannot pretend to account for it. I leave that for 
each philosophical reader to do after his own fash¬ 
ion. The easiest way is that of Nanny and Jim, 
who said often to each other that Diamond had a tile 
loose. But Mr. Raymond was much of my opinion 
concerning the boy; while Mrs. Raymond confessed 
that she often rang her bell just to have once more 
the pleasure of seeing the lovely stillness of the 
boy’s face, with those blue eyes which seemed rather 
made for other people to look into than for himself 
to look out of. 

It was plainer to others than to himself that he 
felt the desertion of Nanny and Jim. They ap¬ 
peared to regard him as a mere toy, except when 
they found he could minister to the increase of their 
privileges or indulgences, when they made no scruple 
of using him—generally with success. They were 
however well-behaved to a wonderful degree; while 
I have little doubt that much of their good behaviour 
was owing to the unconscious influence of the boy 
they called God’s baby. 

One very strange thing is, that I could never find 
out where he got some of his many songs. At times 
they would be but bubbles blown out of a nursery 
rhyme, as was the following, which I heard him sing 
one evening to his little Dulcimer. There were 
about a score of sheep feeding in a paddock near 
him, their white wool dyed a pale rose in the light 
of the setting sun. Those in the long shadows from 
the trees were dead white; those in the sunlight 
were half glorified with pale rose. 

323 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

Little Bo Peep, she lost her sheep, 

And didn’t know where to find them; 

They were over the height and out of sight, 

Trailing their tails behind them. 

Little Bo Peep woke out of her sleep, 

Jump’d up and set out to find them: 

“ The silly things, they’ve got no wings, 

And they’ve left their trails behind them: 

“ They’ve taken their tails, but they’ve left their trails, 
And so I shall follow and find them; ” 

For wherever a tail had dragged a trail, 

The long grass grew behind them. 

And day’s eyes and butter-cups, cow’s lips and crow’s feet 
Were glittering in the sun. 

She threw down her book, and caught up her crook, 

And after her sheep did run. 

She ran, and she ran, and ever as she ran, 

The grass grew higher and higher; 

Till over the hill the sun began 
To set in a flame of fire. 

She ran on still—up the grassy hill, 

And the grass grew higher and higher; 

When she reached its crown, the sun was down, 

And had left a trail of fire. 

The sheep and their tails were gone, all gone— 

And no more trail behind them! 

Yes, yes! they were there—long-tailed and fair, 

But, alas! she could not find them. 

Purple and gold, and rosy and blue, 

With their tails all white behind them, 

Her sheep they did run in the trail of the sun; 

She saw them, but could not find them. 

After the sun, like clouds they did run, 

But she knew they were her sheep: 

She sat down to cry, and look up at the sky. 

But she cried herself asleep. 

324 


I MAKE DIAMOND'S ACQUAINTANCE 

And as she slept the dew fell fast, 

And the wind blew from the sky; 

And strange things took place that shun the day’s face, 
Because they are sweet and shy. 

Nibble, nibble, crop! she heard as she woke: 

A hundred little lambs 

Did pluck and eat the grass so sweet 
That grew in the trails of their dams. 

Little Bo Peep caught up her crook, 

And wiped the tears that did blind her; 

And nibble nibble crop! without a stop, 

The lambs came eating behind her. 

Home, home she came, both tired and lame, 

With three times as many sheep. 

In a month or more, they ’ll be as big as before, 

And then she ’ll laugh in her sleep. 

But what would you say, if one fine day, 

When they’ve got their bushiest tails, 

Their grown up game should be just the same, 

And she have to follow their trails? 

Never weep, Bo Peep, though you lose your sheep, 

And do not know where to find them; 

’Tis after the sun the mothers have run, 

And there are their lambs behind them. 


I confess again to having touched up a little, but 
it loses far more in Diamond’s sweet voice singing 
it than it gains by a rhyme here and there. 

Some of them were out of books Mr. Raymond 
had given him. These he always knew, but about 
the others he could seldom tell. Sometimes he 
would say, “I made that one;” but generally he 
would say, “I don’t know; I found it somewhere;” 
or “I got it at the back of the north wind.” 

325 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


One evening I found him sitting on the grassy 
slope under the house, with his Dulcimer in his arms 
and his little brother rolling on the grass beside 
them. He was chanting in his usual way, more like 
the sound of a brook than anything else I can think 
of. When I went up to them he ceased his chant. 

“Do go on, Diamond. Don’t mind me,” I said. 

He began again at once. While he sang, Nanny 
and Jim sat a little way off, one hemming a pocket- 
handkerchief, and the other reading a story to her, 
but they never heeded Diamond. This is as near 
what he sang as I can recollect, or reproduce rather. 


What would you see if I took you up 
To my little nest in the air? 

You would see the sky like a clear blue cup 
Turned upside downwards there. 

What would you do if I took you there 
To my little nest in the tree? 

My child with cries would trouble the air, 

To get what she could but see. 

What would you get in the top of the tree 
For all your crying and grief? 

Not a star would you clutch of all you see— 
You could only gather a leaf. 

But when you had lost your greedy grief, 
Content to see from afar, 

You would find in your hand a withering leaf, 
In your heart a shining star. 


As Diamond went on singing, it grew very dark, 
and jnst as he ceased there came a great flash of 
lightning, that blinded ns all for a moment. Dulci- 


326 


I MAKE DIAMOND’S ACQUAINTANCE 

mer crowed with pleasure; but when the roar of 
thunder came after it, the little brother gave a loud 
cry of terror. Nanny and Jim came running up 
to us, pale with fear. Diamond’s face too was paler 
than usual, but with delight. Some of the glory 
seemed to have clung to it, and remained shining. 

“You’re not frightened—are you, Diamond?” I 
said. 

“No. Why should I be?” he answered with his 
usual question, looking up in my face with calm 
shining eyes. 

“He ain’t got sense to be frightened,” said Nanny, 
going up to him and giving him a pitying hug. 

“Perhaps there’s more sense in not being fright¬ 
ened, Nanny,” I returned. “Do you think the 
lightning can do as it likes?” 

“It might kill you,” said Jim. 

“Oh no, it mightn’t!” said Diamond. 

As he spoke there came another great flash, and a 
tearing crack. 

“There’s a tree struck!” I said; and when we 
looked round, after the blinding of the flash had left 
our eyes, we saw a huge bough of the beech-tree in 
which was Diamond’s nest, hanging to the ground 
like the broken wing of a bird. 

“There!” cried Nanny; “I told you so. If you 
had been up there you see what would have hap¬ 
pened, you little silly!” 

“No, I don’t,” said Diamond, and began to sing 
to Dulcimer. All I could hear of the song, for the 
other children were going on with their chatter, 
was— 


327 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


The clock struck one, 

And the mouse came down. 
Dickery, dickery, dock! 


Then there came a blast of wind, and the rain 
followed in straight-pouring lines, as if out of a 
watering-pot. Diamond jumped up with his little 
Dulcimer in his arms, and Nanny caught up the 
little boy, and they ran for the cottage. Jim van¬ 
ished with a double shuffle, and I went into the house. 

When I came out again to return home, the clouds 
were gone, and the evening sky glimmered through 
the trees, blue, and pale-green towards the west, I 
turned my steps a little aside to look at the stricken 
beech. I saw the bough torn from the stem, and 
that was all the twilight would allow me to see. 
While I stood gazing, down from the sky came a 
sound of singing, but the voice was neither of lark 
nor of nightingale: it was sweeter than either: it 
was the voice of Diamond, up in his airy nest:— 

The lightning and thunder, 

They go and they come; 

But the stars and the stillness 
Are always at home. 

And then the voice ceased. 

“Good-night, Diamond,’’ I said. 

“Good-night, sir,” answered Diamond. 

As I walked away pondering, I saw the great 
black top of the beech swaying about against the 
sky in an upper wind, and heard the murmur as of 
many dim half-articulate voices filling the solitude 
around Diamond’s nest. 


328 


XXXVI. 


DIAMOND QUESTIONS 
NORTH WIND 


Wei*-• 'TnTBF^i Trf,, -Vgfll 

— " -1 

- r* 

JL /*> 

if 

Im 

ipp II A ® 

Y readers will not wonder that, 
after this, I did my very best to 
gain the friendship of Diamond. 
Nor did I find this at all difficult, 
the child was so ready to trust. 


Upon one subject alone was he reticent—the story 
of his relations with North Wind. I fancy he conld 
not quite make up his mind what to think of them. 
At all events it was some little time before he trusted 
me with this, only then he told me everything. If I 
could not regard it all in exactly the same light as 
he did, I was, while guiltless of the least pretence, 
fully sympathetic, and he was satisfied without de¬ 
manding of me any theory of difficult points in¬ 
volved. I let him see plainly enough, that whatever 
might be the explanation of the marvellous experi¬ 
ence, I would have given much for a similar one 
myself. 


329 











AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

On an evening soon after the thunderstorm, in a 
late twilight, with a half-moon high in the heavens, 
I came upon Diamond in the act of climbing by his 
little ladder into the beech-tree. 

‘‘What are you always going up there for, Dia¬ 
mond ?” I heard Nanny ask, rather rudely, I 
thought. 

“Sometimes for one thing, sometimes for an¬ 
other, Nanny/’ answered Diamond, looking sky¬ 
wards as he climbed. 

“You’ll break your neck some day,” she said. 

“I’m going up to look at the moon to-night,” he 
added, without heeding her remark. 

“You’ll see the moon just as well down here,” 
she returned. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“You’ll be no nearer to her up there.” 

“Oh, yes! I shall. I must be nearer her, you 
know. I wish I could dream as pretty dreams about 
her as you can, Nanny.” 

“You silly! you never have done about that dream. 
I never dreamed but that one, and it was nonsense 
enough, I’m sure.” 

“It wasn’t nonsense. It was a beautiful dream— 
and a funny one too, both in one.” 

“But what’s the good of talking about it that way, 
when you know it was only a dream? Dreams ain’t 
true. ’ ’ 

“That one was true, Nanny. You know it was. 
Didn’t you come to grief for doing what you were 
told not to do? And isn’t that true?” 

“I can’t get any sense into him,” exclaimed 

330 


DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND 

Nanny, with an expression of mild despair. “Do 
you really believe, Diamond, that there’s a house in 
the moon, with a beautiful lady, and a crooked old 
man and dusters in it?” 

“If there isn’t, there’s something better,” he an¬ 
swered, and vanished in the leaves over our heads. 

I went into the house, where I visited often in the 
evenings. When I came out, there was a little wind 
blowing, very pleasant after the heat of the day, for 
although it was late summer now it was still hot. 
The tree-tops were swinging about in it. I took my 
way past the beech, and called up to see if Diamond 
were still in his nest in its rocking head. 

“Are you there, Diamond?” I said. 

“Yes, sir,” came his clear voice in reply 

“Isn’t it growing too dark for you to get down 
safely?” 

“Oh, no, sir—if I take time to it. I know my way 
so well, and never let go with one hand till I’ve a 
good hold with the other. ’ ’ 

“Do be careful,” I insisted—foolishly, seeing the 
boy was as careful as he could be already. 

“I’m coming,” he returned. “I’ve got all the 
moon I want to-night.” 

I heard a rustling and a rustling drawing nearer 
and nearer. Three or four minutes elapsed, and he 
appeared at length creeping down his little ladder. 
I took him in my arms, and set him on the ground. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “That’s the north 
wind blowing, isn’t it, sir?” 

“I can’t tell,” I answered. “It feels cool and 
kind, and I think it may be. But I couldn’t be sure 

331 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

except it were stronger, for a gentle wind might 
turn any way amongst the trunks of the trees . 91 

“I shall know when I get up to my own room,” 
said Diamond. “I think I hear my mistress’s bell. 
Good-night, sir.” 

He ran to the house, and I went home. 

His mistress had rung for him only to send him 
to bed, for she was very careful over him and I 
daresay thought he was not looking well. When he 
reached his own room, he opened both his windows, 
one of which looked to the north and the other to the 
east, to find how the wind blew. It blew right in at 
the northern window. Diamond was very glad, for 
he thought perhaps North Wind herself would come 
now: a real north wind had never blown all the time 
since he left London. But, as she always came of 
herself, and never when he was looking for her, and 
indeed almost never when he was thinking of her, 
he shut the east window, and went to bed. Perhaps 
some of my readers may wonder that he could go to 
sleep with such an expectation; and, indeed, if I had 
not known him, I should have wondered at it myself; 
but it was one of his peculiarities, and seemed noth¬ 
ing strange in him. He was so full of quietness that 
he could go to sleep almost any time, if he only 
composed himself and let the sleep come. This time 
he went fast asleep as usual. 

But he woke in the dim blue night. The moon had 
vanished. He thought he heard a knocking at his 
door. 

“Somebody wants me,” he said to himself, and 
jumping out of bed, ran to open it. 

332 


DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND 

But there was no one there. He closed it again, 
and, the noise still continuing, found that another 
door in the room was rattling. It belonged to a 
closet, he thought, but he had never been able to 
open it. The wind blowing in at the window must 
be shaking it. He would go and see if it was so. 

The door now opened quite easily, but to his sur¬ 
prise, instead of a closet he found a long narrow 
room. The moon, which was sinking in the west, 
shone in at an open window at the further end. The 
room was low with a coved ceiling, and occupied the 
whole top of the house, immediately under the roof. 
It was quite empty. The yellow light of the half- 
moon streamed over the dark floor. He was so de¬ 
lighted at the discovery of the strange desolate 
moonlit place close to his own snug little room, that 
he began to dance and skip about the floor. The 
wind came in through the door he had left open, and 
blew about him as he danced, and he kept turning 
towards it that it might blow in his face. He kept 
picturing to himself the many places, lovely and 
desolate, the hill-sides and farm-yards and tree- 
tops and meadows, over which it had blown on its 
way to the Mound. And as he danced, he grew more 
and more delighted with the motion and the wind; 
his feet grew stronger, and his body lighter, until 
at length it seemed as if he were borne up on the air, 
and could almost fly. So strong did his feeling be¬ 
come, that at last he began to doubt whether he was 
not in one of those precious dreams he had so often 
had, in which he floated about on the air at will. 
But something made him look up, and to his un- 
333 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

speakable delight, he found his uplifted hands lying 
in those of North Wind, who was dancing with him, 
round and round the long bare room, her hair now 
falling to the floor, now filling the arched ceiling, 
her eyes shining on him like thinking stars, and 
the sweetest of grand smiles playing breezily about 
her beautiful mouth. She was, as so often before, 
of the height of a rather tall lady. She did not 
stoop in order to dance with him, but held his hands 
high in hers. When he saw her, he gave one spring, 
and his arms were about her neck, and her arms hold¬ 
ing him to her bosom. The same moment she swept 
with him through the open window in at which the 
moon was shining, made a circuit like a bird about to 
alight, and settled with him in his nest on the top 
of the great beech-tree. There she placed him on 
her lap and began to hush him as if he were her 
own baby, and Diamond was so entirely happy that 
he did not care to speak a word. At length, how¬ 
ever, he found that he was going to sleep, and that 
would be to lose so much, that, pleasant as it was, he 
could not consent. 

“Please, dear North Wind,” he said, “I am so 
happy that I’m afraid it’s a dream. How am I to 
know that it’s not a dream?” 

“What does it matter?” returned North Wind. 

“I should cry,” said Diamond. 

“But why should you cry? The dream, if it is a 
dream, is a pleasant one—is it not?” 

“That’s just why I want it to be true.” 

“Have you forgotten what you said to Nanny 
about her dream?” 


334 


DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND 


“It's not for the dream itself—I mean, it’s not 
for the pleasure of it,” answered Diamond, “for 
I have that, whether it be a dream or not; it’s for 
you, North Wind: I can’t bear to find it a dream, 
because then I should lose you. You would be no¬ 
body then, and I could not bear that. You ain’t 
a dream, are you, dear North Wind? Do say No, 
else I shall cry, and come awake, and you ’ll be gone 
for ever. I daren’t dream about you once again if 
you ain’t anybody.” 

“I’m either not a dream, or there’s something 
better that’s not a dream, Diamond,” said North 
Wind, in a rather sorrowful tone, he thought. 

“But it’s not something better—it’s you I want, 
North Wind,” he persisted, already beginning to 
cry a little. 

She made no answer, but rose with him in her 
arms and sailed away over the tree-tops till they 
came to a meadow, where a flock of sheep was 
feeding. 

“Do you remember what the song you were sing¬ 
ing a week ago says about Bo-Peep—how she lost 
her sheep, but got twice as many lambs?” asked 
North Wind, sitting down on the grass, and placing 
him in her lap as before. 

‘ 1 Oh yes, I do, well enough, ’ ’ answered Diamond; 
“but I never just quite liked that rhyme.” 

< < Why not, child ? ’ ’ 

“Because it seems to say one’s as good as an¬ 
other, or two new ones are better than one that’s 
lost. I’ve been thinking about it a great deal, and 
it seems to me that although any one sixpence is as 
335 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

good as any other sixpence, not twenty lambs wonld 
do instead of one sheep whose face yon knew. Some¬ 
how, when once you’ve looked into anybody’s eyes, 
right deep down into them, I mean, nobody will do 
for that one any more. Nobody, ever so beautiful 
or so good, will make up for that one going out of 
sight. So you see, North Wind, I can’t help being 
frightened to think that perhaps I am only dreaming, 
and you are nowhere at all. Do tell me that you are 
my own real beautiful North Wind.” 

Again she rose, and shot herself into the air, as 
if uneasy because she could not answer him; and 
Diamond lay quiet in her arms, waiting for what she 
would say. He tried to see up into her face, for he 
was dreadfully afraid she was not answering him 
because she could not say that she was not a dream; 
but she had let her hair fall all over her face so 
that he could not see it. This frightened him still 
more. 

“Do speak, North Wind,” he said at last. 

“I never speak when I have nothing to say,” she 
replied. 

“Then I do think you must be a real North Wind, 
and no dream,” said Diamond. 

“But I’m looking for something to say all the 
time.” 

“But I don’t want you to say what’s hard to find. 
If you were to say one word to comfort me that 
wasn’t true, then I should know you must be a 
dream, for a great beautiful lady like you could 
never tell a lie.” 

“But she mightn’t know how to say what she had 
to say, so that a little boy like you would under- 

336 


DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND 

stand it,” said North Wind. “Here, let ns get 
down again, and I will try to tell you what I think. 
You mustn’t suppose I am able to answer all your 
questions, though. There are a great many things 
I don’t understand more than you do.” 

She descended on a grassy hillock, in the midst of 
a wild furzy common. There was a rabbit-warren 
underneath, and some of the rabbits came out of 
their holes, in the moonlight, looking very sober and 
wise, just like patriarchs standing in their tent* 
doors, and looking about them before going to bed. 
When they saw North Wind, instead of turning 
round and vanishing again with a thump of their 
heels, they cantered slowly up to her and snuffled all 
about her with their long upper lips, which moved 
every way at once. That was their way of kissing 
her; and, as she talked to Diamond, she would every 
now and then stroke down their furry backs, or lift 
and play with their long ears. They would, Dia¬ 
mond thought, have leaped upon her lap, but that 
he was there already. 

“I think,” said she, after they had been sitting 
silent for a while, “that if I were only a dream, you 
would not have been able to love me so. You love 
me when you are not with me, don’t you?” 

“Indeed I do,” answered Diamond, stroking her 
hand. “I see! I see! How could I be able to 
love you as I do if you weren’t there at all, you 
know? Besides, I couldn’t be able to dream any¬ 
thing half so beautiful all out of my own head; or if 
I did, I couldn’t love a fancy of my own like that, 
could I?” 

“I think not. You might have loved me in a 


22 


337 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


dream, dreamily, and forgotten me when you woke, 
I daresay, but not loved me like a real being as you 
love me. Even then, I don’t think you could dream 
anything that hadn’t something real like it some¬ 
where. But you’ve seen me in many shapes, Dia¬ 
mond: you remember I was a wolf once—don’t 
you?” 

“Oh yes—a good wolf that frightened a naughty 
drunken nurse.” 

“Well, suppose I were to turn ugly, would you 
rather I weren’t a dream then?” 

“Yes; for I should know that you were beautiful 
inside all the same. You would love me, and I 
should love you all the same. I shouldn’t like you 
to look ugly, you know. But I shouldn’t believe 
it a bit. ’ ’ 

“Not if you saw it?” 

“No, not if I saw it ever so plain.” 

“There’s my Diamond! I will tell you all I know 
about it then. I don’t think I am just what you 
fancy me to be. I have to shape myself various 
ways to various people. But the heart of me is true. 
People call me by dreadful names, and think they 
know all about me. But they don’t. Sometimes 
they call me Bad Fortune, sometimes Evil Chance, 
sometimes Ruin; and they have another name for 
me which they think the most dreadful of all.” 

“What is that?” asked Diamond, smiling up in 
her face. 

“I won’t tell you that name. Do you remember 
having to go through me to get into the country 
at my back?” 


338 


DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND 

“Oh yes, I do. How cold you were, North Windl 
and so white, all but your lovely eyes! My heart 
grew like a lump of ice, and then I forgot for a 
while.” 

“You were very near knowing what they call me 
then. Would you be afraid of me if you had to go 
through me again?” 

“No. Why should I? Indeed I should be glad 
enough, if it was only to get another peep of the 
country at your back.” 

“You’ve never seen it yet.” 

“Haven’t I, North Wind? Oh! I’m so sorry! I 
thought I had. What did I see then?” 

“Only a picture of it. The real country at my 
real back is ever so much more beautiful than that. 
You shall see it one day—perhaps before very long.” 

“Do they sing songs there?” 

“Don’t you remember the dream you had about 
the little boys that dug for the stars?” 

“Yes, that I do. I thought you must have had 
something to do with that dream, it was so 
beautiful. ’ ’ 

“Yes; I gave you that dream.” 

“Oh! thank you. Did you give Nanny her dream 
too—about the moon and the bees ? ’ ’ 

“Yes. I was the lady that sat at the window of 
the moon.” 

“Oh, thank you. I was almost sure you had 
something to do with that too. And did you tell 
Mr. Eaymond the story about the Princess Day¬ 
light?” 

“I believe I had something to do with it. At all 


339 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

events lie thought about it one night when he 
couldn’t sleep. But I want to ask you whether you 
remember the song the boy-angel sang in that dream 
of yours .’ 9 

“No. I couldn’t keep it, do what I would, and 
I did try.” 

“That was my fault.” 

“How could that be, North Wind?” 

“Because I didn’t know it properly myself, and 
so I couldn’t teach it to you. I could only make a 
rough guess at something like what it would be, and 
so I wasn’t able to make you dream it hard enough 
to remember it. Nor would I have done so if I 
could, for it was not correct. I made you dream 
pictures of it, though. But you will hear the very 
song itself when you do get to the back of-” 

“My own dear North Wind,” said Diamond, fin¬ 
ishing the sentence for her, and kissing the arm that 
held him leaning against her. 

“And now we’ve settled all this—for the time, at 
least,” said North Wind. 

“But I can’t feel quite sure yet,” said Diamond. 

“You must wait a while for that. Meantime you 
may be hopeful, and content not to be quite sure. 
Come now, I will take you home again, for it won’t 
do to tire you too much. ’ ’ 

“Oh! no, no. I’m not the least tired,” pleaded 
Diamond. 

“It is better, though.” 

“Very well; if you wish it,” yielded Diamond 
with a sigh. 

“You are a dear good boy, ’ ’ said North Wind. 11 1 


340 


DIAMOND QUESTIONS NORTH WIND 


will come for yon again to-morrow night and take 
you out for a longer time. We shall make a little 
journey together, in fact. We shall start earlier; 
and as the moon will he later, we shall have a little 
moonlight all the way.” 

She rose, and swept over the meadow and the 
trees. In a few moments the Mound appeared below 
them. She sank a little, and floated in at the window 
of Diamond *s room. There she laid him on his bed, 
covered him over, and in a moment he was lapt in a 
dreamless sleep. 





XXXVII. 

ONCE MORE 



HE next night Diamond was 
tired, but so eagerly waiting for 
the promised visit that he was 
seated by his open window, with 
his head on his hand, rather 
afraid he could not sleep. But he started suddenly, 
and found that he had been already asleep. He 
rose, and looking out of the window saw something 
white against his beech-tree. It was North Wind. 
She was holding by one hand to a top branch. Her 
hair and her garments went floating away behind 
her over the tree, whose top was swaying about while 
the others were still. 

“ Are you ready, Diamond ?” she asked. 

“Yes,” answered Diamond, “quite ready.” 

In a moment she was at the window, and her arms 
came in and took him. She sailed away so swiftly 
that he could at first mark nothing but the speed 
with which the clouds above and the dim earth be¬ 
low went rushing past. But soon he began to see 












ONCE MORE 


that the sky was very lovely, with mottled clouds 
all about the moon, on which she threw faint colours 
like those of mother-of-pearl, or an opal. The night 
was warm, and in the lady’s arms he did not feel 
the wind which down below was making waves in the 
ripe corn, and ripples on the rivers and lakes. At 
length they descended on the side of an open earthy 
hill, just where, from beneath a stone, a spring came 
bubbling out. 

“lam going to take you along this little brook,” 
said North Wind. “I am not wanted for anything 
else to-night, so I can give you a treat.’ 9 

She stooped over the stream, and holding Dia¬ 
mond down close to the surface of it, glided along 
level with its flow as it ran down the hill. And the 
song of the brook came up into Diamond’s ears, 
and grew and grew and changed with every turn. 
It seemed to Diamond to be singing the story of its 
life to him. And so it was. It began with a musical 
tinkle which changed to a babble and then to a gentle 
rushing. Sometimes its song would almost cease, 
and then break out again, tinkle, babble, and rush, 
all at once. At the bottom of the hill they came to a 
small river, into which the brook flowed with a 
muffled but merry sound. Along the surface of the 
river, darkly clear below them in the moonlight, 
they floated; now, where it widened out into a little 
lake, they would hover for a moment over a bed of 
water-lilies, and watch them swing about, folded in 
sleep, as the water on which they leaned swayed in 
the presence of North Wind; and now they would 
watch the fishes asleep among their roots below. 


343 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


Sometimes she would hold Diamond over a deep hol¬ 
low curving into the bank, that he might look far into 
the cool stillness. Sometimes she would leave the 
river and sweep across a clover-field. The bees 
were all at home, and the clover was asleep. Then 
she would return and follow the river. It grew wider 
and wider as it went. Now the armies of wheat and 
of oats would hang over its rush from the opposite 
hanks; now the willows would dip low branches in 
its still waters; and now it would lead them through 
stately trees and grassy banks into a lovely garden, 
where the roses and lilies were asleep, the tender 
flowers quite folded up, and only a few wide-awake 
and sending out their life in sweet strong odours. 
Wider and wider grew the stream, until they came 
upon boats lying along its banks, which rocked a 
little in the flutter of North Wind’s garments. Then 
came houses on the banks, each standing in a lovely 
lawn, with grand trees: and in parts the river was 
so high that some of the grass and the roots of some 
of the trees were under water, and Diamond, as they 
glided through between the stems, could see the grass 
at the bottom of the water. Then they would leave 
the river and float about and over the houses, one 
after another—beautiful rich houses, which, like fine 
trees, had taken centuries to grow. There was 
scarcely a light to be seen, and not a movement to 
be heard: all the people in them lay fast asleep. 

“What a lot of dreams they must be dreaming!” 
said Diamond. 

“Yes,” returned North Wind. “They can’t 
surely be all lies—can they!” 

344 


ONCE MORE 


I should think it depends a little on who dreams 
them, ’ ’ suggested Diamond. 

Yes,’ ’ said North Wind. ‘ ‘ The people who think 
lies, and do lies, are very likely to dream lies. But 
the people who love what is true will surely now and 
then dream true things. But then something de¬ 
pends on whether the dreams are home-grown, or 
whether the seed of them is blown over somebody 
else’s garden-wall. Ah! there’s some one awake in 
this house! ’ 9 

They were floating past a window in which a light 
was burning. Diamond heard a moan, and looked 
up anxiously in North Wind’s face. 

“It’s a lady,” said North Wind. “She can’t 
sleep for pain.” 

“Couldn’t you do something for her?” said 
Diamond. 

“No, I can’t. But you could.” 

“What could I do?” 

“Sing a little song to her.” 

“She wouldn’t hear me.” 

“I will take you in, and then she will hear you.” 

“But that would be rude, wouldn’t it? You can 
go where you please, of course, hut I should have no 
business in her room.” 

“You may trust me, Diamond. I shall take as 
good care of the lady as of you. The window is 
open. Come.” 

By a shaded lamp, a lady was seated in a white 
wrapper, trying to read, but moaning every minute. 
North Wind floated behind her chair, set Diamond 
down, and told him to sing something. lie was a 

345 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


little frightened, but be thought a while, and then 
sang:— 

The sun is gone down, 

And the moon’s in the sky 

But the sun will come up, 

And the moon be laid by. 

The flower is asleep 
But it is not dead, 

When the morning shines, 

It will lift its head. 

When winter comes, 

It will die—no, no; 

It will only hide 

From the frost and the snow. 

Sure is the summer, 

Sure is the sun; 

The night and the winter 
Are shadows that run. 

The lady never lifted her eyes from her book, 
or her head from her hand. 

As soon as Diamond had finished, North Wind 
lifted him and carried him away. 

“Didn’t the lady hear me?” asked Diamond when 
they were once more floating down with the river. 

“Oh, yes, she heard you,” answered North Wind. 

“Was she frightened then?” 

“Oh, no.” 

“Why didn’t she look to see who it was?” 

“She didn’t know you were there.” 

“How could she hear me then?” 

“She didn’t hear you with her ears.” 

“What did she hear me with?” 

“With her heart.” 


346 


ONCE MORE 


“Where did she think the words came from?” 

“She thought they came out of the book she was 
reading. She will search all through it to-morrow 
to find them, and won’t be able to understand it 
at all.” 

“Oh, what fun!” said Diamond. “What will 
she do?” 

“I can tell you what she won’t do: she’ll never 
forget the meaning of them; and she’ll never be 
able to remember the words of them. ’ ’ 

“If she sees them in Mr. Raymond’s book, it will 
puzzle her, won’t it?” 

“Yes, that it will. She will never be able to under¬ 
stand it. ’ ’ 

“Until she gets to the back of the north wind,” 
suggested Diamond. 

“Until she gets to the back of the north wind,” 
assented the lady. 

“Oh!” cried Diamond, “I know now where we 
are. Oh! do let me go into the old garden, and into 
mother’s room, and Diamond’s stall. I wonder if 
the hole is at the back of my bed still. I should like 
to stay there all the rest of the night. It won’t 
take you long to get home from here, will it, North 
Wind?” 

“No,” she answered; “you shall stay as long 
as you like.” 

“Oh, how jolly!” cried Diamond, as North Wind 
sailed over the house with him, and set him down on 
the lawn at the back. 

Diamond ran about the lawn for a little while in 
the moonlight. He found part of it cut up into 
347 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 


flower-beds, and the little summer-house with the 
coloured glass and the great elm-tree gone. He did 
not like this, and ran into the stable. There were 
no horses there at all. He ran upstairs. The rooms 
were empty. The only thing left that he cared about 
was the hole in the wall where his little bed had 
stood; and that was not enough to make him wish to 
stop. He ran down the stair again, and out upon 
the lawn. There he threw himself down and began 
to cry. It was all so dreary and lost! 

“I thought I liked the place so much,” said Dia¬ 
mond to himself, “but I find I don’t care about it. 
I suppose it’s only the people in it that make you like 
a place, and when they’re gone, it’s dead, and you 
don’t care a bit about it. North Wind told me I 
might stop as long as I liked, and I’ve stopped 
longer already.—North Wind!” he cried aloud, turn¬ 
ing his face towards the sky. 

The moon was under a cloud, and all was looking 
dull and dismal. A star shot from the sky, and 
fell in the grass beside him. The moment it lighted, 
there stood North Wind. 

“Oh!” cried Diamond, joyfully, “were you the 
shooting star ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, my child.” 

“Did you hear me call you then?” 

“Yes.” 

“So high up as that?” 

“Yes; I heard you quite well.” 

“Do take me home.” 

“Have you had enough of your old home 
already?” 


348 


ONCE MORE 


“Yes, more than enough. It isn’t a home at all 
now.” 

“I thought that would be it,” said North Wind. 
“Everything, dreaming and all, has got a soul in it, 
or else it’s worth nothing, and we don’t care a bit 
about it. Some of our thoughts are worth nothing, 
because they’ve got no soul in them. The brain puts 
them into the mind, not the mind into the brain.” 

“But how can you know about that, North Wind? 
You haven’t got a body.” 

“If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t know anything about 
me. No creature can know another without the help 
of a body. But I don’t care to talk about that. It 
is time for you to go home.” 

So saying, North Wind lifted Diamond and bore 
him away. 




XXXVIII. 

AT THE BACK OF THE 
NORTH WIND 



DID not see Diamond for a week 
or so after this, and then he told 
me what I have now told you. 
I should have been astonished at 
his being able even to report 
such conversations as he said he had had with North 
Wind, had I not known already that some children 
are profound in metaphysics. But a fear crosses 
me, lest, by telling so much about my friend, I 
should lead people to mistake him for one of those 
consequential, priggish little monsters, who are al¬ 
ways trying to say clever things, and looking to see 
whether people appreciate them. When a child like 
that dies, instead of having a silly book written 
about him, he should be stuffed like one of those 
awful big-headed fishes you see in museums. But 
Diamond never troubled his head about what people 
thought of him. He never set up for knowing better 
than others. The wisest things he said came out 

350 












AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

when he wanted one to help him with some difficulty 
he was in. He was not even offended with Nanny 
and Jim for calling him a silly. He supposed there 
was something in it, though he could not quite un¬ 
derstand what. I suspect however that the other 
name they gave him, God's Baby, had some share in 
reconciling him to it. 

Happily for me, I was as much interested in 
metaphysics as Diamond himself, and therefore, 
while he recounted his conversations with North 
Wind, I did not find myself at all in a strange sea, 
although certainly I could not always feel the bot¬ 
tom, being indeed convinced that the bottom was 
miles away. 

“Could it he all dreaming, do you think, sir?” 
he asked anxiously. 

“I daren’t say, Diamond,” I answered. 44 But at 
least there is one thing you may he sure of, that 
there is a still better love than that of the wonderful 
being you call North Wind. Even if she be a dream, 
the dream of such a beautiful creature could not 
come to you by chance.” 

11 Yes, I know,” returned Diamond; “I know.” 

Then he was silent, but, I confess, appeared more 
thoughtful than satisfied. 

The next time I saw him, he looked paler than 
usual. 

44 Have you seen your friend again?” I asked him. 

44 Yes,” he answered, solemnly. 

44 Did she take you out with her?” 

4 4 No. She did not speak to me. I woke all at 
once, as I generally do when I am going to see her, 
and there she was against the door into the big 

351 


AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND 

room, sitting just as I saw her sit on her own door¬ 
step, as white as snow, and her eyes as bine as the 
heart of an iceberg. She looked at me, but never 
moved or spoke.” 

1 ‘Weren’t you afraid?” I asked. 

“No. Why should I?” he answered. “I only 
felt a little cold.” 

“Did she stay long?” 

“I don’t know. I fell asleep again. I think I 
have been rather cold ever since though,” he added 
with a smile. 

I did not quite like this, but I said nothing. 

Four days after, I called again at the Mound. 
The maid who opened the door looked grave, but I 
suspected nothing. When I reached the drawing¬ 
room, I saw Mrs. Raymond had been crying. 

“Haven’t you heard?” she said, seeing my ques¬ 
tioning looks. 

“I’ve heard nothing,” I answered. 

‘ 4 This morning we found our dear little Diamond 
lying on the floor of the big attic-room, just outside 
his own door—fast asleep, as we thought. But when 
we took him up, we did not think he was asleep. We 
saw that-” 

Here the kind-hearted lady broke out crying 
afresh. 

“May I go and see him?” I asked. 

“Yes,” she sobbed. “You know your way to the 
top of the tower.” 

I walked up the winding stair, and entered his 
room. A lovely figure, as white and almost as clear 
as alabaster, was lying on the bed. I saw at once 
how it was. They thought he was dead. I knew 
that he had gone to the hack of the north wind. 


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BOOKS FOR YOUNG AMERICA 


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Endorsed by Chief Scout Librarian Mathiews 
BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA 

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Endorsed by Chief Scout Librarian Mathiews 
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In this screamingly funny and exciting story we follow 
the further adventures of “Pewee” Clinton and his mess¬ 
mates on their first European cruise. A boat race, a 
French duel, some vigorous international fisticuffs and 
many other events make this a whirl-wind tale. 

Longshore Boys 

By W. O. STODDARD, JR. Illustrated in color. $1.25 net. 

The ocean is the subject of this story and the fun three 
boys have upon it off Long Island with a small sloop. 
They meet every kind of adventure that the sea has to offer. 

The Belt of Seven Totems 

By KIRK MONROE. Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth. $1.25 net. 

American boys have bought seven editions of this great 
yarn. It is told of an Indian chief of many years ago when 
the white man first came to America. You are sure to 
enjoy it. 

Pike and Cutlass 

By GEORGE GIBBS. Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth. $1.25 net. 

Eighteen yarns of adventure in the United States Navy, 
telling of John Paul Jones, Decatur, Farragut and many 
another hero, make a book worth reading. 

The Boy Mineral Collectors 

By JAY G. KELLEY. Frontispiece in color. Cloth. $1.35 net. 

The story of the fun a couple of boys have in making a 
collection of minerals from the rocks found in the hills and 
meadows in their neighborhood. The reading of it will 
give you great fun and plenty of stimulating suggestions. 






American History for American Boys 

How do you like American history? Most boys find it 
their most interesting study. We all have heroes—some¬ 
times our hero is a soldier like George Washington or 
Ulysses S. Grant, sometimes a great statesman like Abra¬ 
ham Lincoln. These books tell the lives of great heroes 
in a manner that is fascinating. They are not boys* books 
but boys read and enjoy them. They are grown-up history 
but such interesting history that men and women, boys 
and girls of all ages like them better than story books. 
Try to get some of the volumes for your private library. 

THE “TRUE” SERIES 

Each illustrated. Crown 8 vo. Cloth, gilt top, $2.00 net. 

The True Ulysses S. Grant 

By GENERAL CHARLES KING. 

The True Abraham Lincoln 

By WILLIAM ELEROY CURTIS. 

The True Andrew Jackson 

By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY, D.D. 

The True Daniel Webster 

By SYDNEY GEORGE FISHER, LITT.D., LL.D. 

The True Benjamin Franklin 

By SYDNEY GEORGE FISHER, LITT.D., LL.D. 

The True George Washington 

By PAUL LEICESTER FORD. 

The True Henry Clay 

By JOSEPH M. ROGERS. 

The True History of the American Revolution 

By SYDNEY GEORGE FISHER, LITT.D., LL.D. 

The True History of the Civil War 

By GUY CARLETON LEE, PH.D. 

The True Patrick Henry 

By GEORGE MORGAN. 

The True Thomas Jefferson 

By WILLIAM ELEROY CURTIS. 

The True William Penn 

By SYDNEY GEORGE FISHER, LITT.D., LL.D. 







Lippincott’s “90c. ” Boys’ Books 

Trooper Ross and Signal Butte 

By GENERAL CHARLES KING. 

From School to Battle Field 

By GENERAL CHARLES KING. 

The Mystery of the Island 

By HENRY KINGSLEY. 

Maid Marian and Robin Hood 

By J. E. MUDDOCK. 

With the Treasure Hunters 

By JAMES OTIS. 

The Cruise of the Pretty Polly 

By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 

Captain Chap 

By FRANK R. STOCKTON. 

The Young Master of Hyson Hall 

By FRANK R. STOCKTON. 

Chumley’s Post 

By W. O. STODDARD. 

The Lost Gold of the Montezumas 

ByW. O. STODDARD. 

An Antarctic Mystery 

By JULES VERNE. 

In Search of the Castaways 

By JULES VERNE. 

The Oracle of Baal 

By J. PROVAND WEBSTER. 

Charlie Lucken 

By REV. H. C. ADAMS, M.A. 

fElie Brahmin’s Treasure 

’ By GEORGE A. HENTY. 





























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